HAROLD  A. 


SCANDAL 


HAHOLD  A. 


Cosmo  Hamilton 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  CHILDREN 
THE  BLINDNESS  OF  VIRTUE 
THE   DOOR   THAT  HAS   NO   KEY 
THE  MIRACLE  OF  LOVE 

A     PLEA     FOR     THE     YOUNGER 
GENERATION 

JOAN  AND  THE  BABIES  AND  I 
SCANDAL 


Fraser  immediately  became  the  object  of  Beatrix'  whole 
attention.    FRONTISPIECE.    See  page  192. 


SCANDAL 

A  NOVEL 

BY 
COSMO    HAMILTON 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS   BY 

RICHARD   CULTER 


A. 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,   BROWN,   AND   COMPANY 
1917 


Copyright,  1917, 
BY  COSMO  HAMILTON. 

All  rights  reserved 
Published  September,  1917 


THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.   H.   SIMONDS   CO.,  BOSTON,  U.   S.  A. 


"  For  life,  with  all  it  yields  of  joy  and  woe, 
And  hope  and  fear  (believe  the  aged  friend), 
Is  just  our  chance  o'  the  prize  of  learning  love, — 
How  love  might  be,  hath  been  indeed,  and  is." 

ROBERT  BROWNING. 


2136173 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Fraser    immediately    became    the    object    of 

Beatrix'  whole  attention  .  .  .  Frontispiece 
"  Don't  you  think  we  make  a  charming  picture 

of  connubial  felicity?  "  .  .  .  .  PAGE  74 
"  It  won't  be  many  days  before  we  find  scandal 

rearing  its  head  at  us "  .  .  .  135 

In  this  picture  stood  the  vital  figures  of  Beatrix 

and  Franklin,  hand  in  hand  .          .         .        "        372 


SCANDAL 


"  BY  Jove,  there's  Beatrix  Vanderdyke !  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  What  on  earth  is  she  doing  in  New  York  at  this 
time  of  year?  " 

There  was  a  laugh  and  a  shrug.  "If  it  comes  to 
that,  my  dear  fellow,  what  on  earth  are  we  doing  in 
New  York  at  this  time  of  year?  Anyway,  I'm  not  in- 
terested." 

"  I  am.  She's  with  that  unpleasant  brute,  Suther- 
land York  again.  I  wish  to  Heaven  she  wouldn't  go 
about  with  a  second-rate  portrait  painter  who  only 
gets  commissions  by  licking  people's  boots,  or  any 
other  man,  for  the  matter  of  that,  at  this  time  of 
night." 

Pelham  Franklin  laughed.  "  I'm  sorry  I  can't 
squeeze  up  any  interest  in  Miss  Vanderdyke,"  he  said. 
"  I've  seen  her  going  into  York's  studio  round  about 
midnight  several  times,  but  it's  her  life.  She  has  to 
lead  it.  There's  no  accounting  for  tastes,  you  know. 
You  and  I,  for  instance,  have  a  penchant  for  the  Zieg- 
feld  Follies.  I  vote  we  walk,  it's  a  little  cooler 
now." 


2  SCANDAL 

And  as  the  only  son  of  the  famous  millionaire 
Franklin,  sauntered  away  with  his  friend,  Sutherland 
York,  the  "  unpleasant  brute,"  followed  Miss  Vander- 
dyke  into  the  elevator. 

York  had  cultivated  a  peculiar  habit  of  looking  at 
a  woman  as  though  she  were  the  only  one  alive,  and  by 
doing  so  had  achieved  a  list  of  clients  which  made  the 
mouth  of  every  other  portrait  painter  in  New  York 
water  with  envy.  He  also  had  a  way,  which 
amounted  to  a  gift,  of  running  his  eyes  over  women 
which  made  them  feel  that  they  had  nothing  on.  It 
caused  some  to  shudder,  some  to  preen  themselves,  and 
some  —  the  coarser,  indelicate  type  —  to  feel  a  pleas- 
ant thrill  of  excitement.  Like  many  men  who  paint 
portraits  for  a  living,  Sutherland  York  had  discovered 
that  in  order  to  pay  the  rent  of  a  very  expensive  apart- 
ment, keep  a  man,  dress  to  perfection  and  dine  fre- 
quently at  Sherry's  and  the  Ritz,  it  is  necessary  to 
know  something  more  than  how  to  paint.  Women 
were  his  clients.  They  provided  him  with  his  butter 
as  well  as  his  bread,  and  he  catered  to  them  with  art- 
fulness rather  than  with  art.  Miss  Vanderdyke  came 
in  for  all  this  man's  eye-play  in  the  elevator,  but  with- 
out a  flicker  of  a  lash  bore  up  against  it. 

The  city  had  baked  beneath  a  hot  June  sun  that 
day.  The  night  was  airless  and  oppressive.  Beatrix 
dropped  her  cloak  and  went  over  to  one  of  the  open 
windows  and  stood  there  with  the  discreet  lights  show- 
ing up  the  smooth  whiteness  of  her  shoulders,  arms 
and  back.  Her  dress  was  one  of  those  so-called  smart 
things  that  one  sees  in  the  windows  of  fashionable 


SCANDAL  3 

shops  which  affect  French  names.  It  left  very  little 
to  the  imagination  and  was  as  short  as  it  was  low. 
In  between  it  was  ugly  and  foolish,  and  required  a  very 
beautiful  young  body  to  live  it  down  and  put  a  check 
on  the  ribald  laughter  of  sane  people.  On  the  other 
side  of  Fifth  Avenue  the  Plaza,  with  its  multitudinous 
windows  all  gleaming,  reared  its  head  up  to  the  clear 
sky.  Along  the  glistening  street  below  intermittent 
automobiles  glided  like  black  beetles.  The  incessant 
hum  of  the  city  came  like  music  to  the  girl's  ears.  She 
preferred  that  sound  to  the  God-sent  quietude  of  the 
country  from  which  she  had  just  come. 

While  a  bottle  of  champagne  was  opened  and  ciga- 
rettes were  placed  on  the  table,  York  stood  with  his 
back  against  a  heavily  carved  oak  armoire  in  an  at- 
titude of  carefully  considered  gracefulness  and 
watched  the  girl  with  a  sense  of  extreme  triumph. 
The  fact  that  she  was  young  —  very  young, —  not 
very  much  more  than  twenty, —  and  was  generally 
acknowledged  as  having  been  the  most  beautiful 
debutante  who  had  come  out  in  New  York  society  in 
many  years,  did  not  matter.  He  had  painted  her  por- 
trait and  had  quieted  his  numerous  trades-people  with 
a  certain  portion  of  the  very  substantial  cheque  which 
he  had  received,  but  that  also  did  not  matter.  What 
did  matter  was  the  fact  that  he,  himself,  had  proved 
attractive  to  a  Vanderdyke  —  to  the  only  daughter  of 
the  man  whose  name  was  known  all  over  the  world 
as  the  head  of  one  of  the  richest  and  certainly  the 
most  exclusive  family  in  the  United  States,  whose 
house  on  Fifth  Avenue  contained  art  treasures  which 


made  it  more  notable  than  the  houses  of  European  roy- 
alty, and  whose  country  places  with  their  racing 
stables,  their  kennels,  their  swimming  pools  and  ten- 
nis courts,  golf  courses  and  polo  grounds  were  the 
pride  of  all  the  little  eager  people  who  write  society 
paragraphs.  It  meant  a  good  deal  to  the  son  of  the 
man  who  had  kept  a  dusty-looking  antique  shop  with 
dirty  windows  on  Fourth  Avenue  to  be  able  to  assure 
himself  that  he  exercised  enough  attraction  over  this 
girl  to  make  her  run  the  risk  of  gossip  in  order  to 
spend  a  few  stolen  hours  from  time  to  time  in  his 
company  alone.  With  the  use  of  consummate  tact, 
his  well-practiced  flattery,  and  at  the  right  moment  a 
sudden  outburst  of  passionate  words  culled  from  the 
works  of  Byron  and  Swinburne,  what  might  he  not 
achieve ! 

As  these  thoughts  ran  through  his  brain  he  turned 
to  the  oval  glass  in  an  Italian  frame  that  hung  on  the 
wall  and  looked  at  himself  with  close  examination. 
He  certainly  wore  his  forty-seven  years  admirably  well. 
His  dark,  thick,  wavy  hair  was  all  the  more  pictur- 
esque for  its  sprinkling  of  white.  His  high  forehead 
lent  him  an  air  of  intellectuality  which  was  most 
misleading.  His  straight,  black  eyebrows  and  large, 
almond-shaped  eyes  gave  him  a  Latin  touch  which 
seemed  to  indicate  temperament.  His  nose,  he  told 
himself,  was  undoubtedly  aristocratic,  and  his  mous- 
tache—  scrupulously  lifted  away  from  his  lip  — 
added  to  the  effect  of  a  well-shaped  mouth  and  large 
white,  regular  teeth.  There  was  a  slit  in  his  chin 
of  which  he  had  always  been  proud.  Striking  was  the 


SCANDAL  5 

word  that  he  applied  to  himself,  and  handsome  was 
the  one  which  he  knew  was  generally  used  about  him. 
The  touch  of  humor  which  was  his  saving  grace  made 
him  very  well  aware  of  the  fact  that  with  any  clothes 
less  well  cut  and  carefully  considered  he  might  easily 
fall  in  line  with  the  glossy  villain  of  melodrama  or 
with  the  conventional  desperado  so  necessary  to  the 
producers  of  moving  pictures. 

With  fingers  as  expert  as  those  of  a  woman  he 
smoothed  his  hair  here  and  there,  made  a  quick  sign 
to  his  man  to  get  out,  and  moved  across  the  ex- 
pensively rugged  studio  to  the  window.  "  I  was  on 
the  point  of  going  out  to  supper,"  he  said,  "  when 
you  called  me  up.  It  was  very  kind  of  you." 

Beatrix  turned  towards  him  with  the  most  discon- 
certing air  of  candor.  Not  for  the  first  time  he  was 
astonished  at  her  perfect  finish,  her  audacious  self- 
possession.  This  baby  was  a  complete  woman  of  the 
world.  "  No,  it  wasn't,"  she  said.  "  I  was  bored. 
I  only  got  to  town  at  half -past  eight  and  the  mere 
thought  of  spending  the  evening  with  a  garrulous  com- 
panion —  a  sort  of  toothless  watch-dog  —  in  a  house 
among  Holland  covers  and  the  persistent  smell  of 
camphor  was  more  than  I  could  stand.  I  had  no 
intention  of  being  kind.  Do  we  smoke?" 

"Oh,  please!"  he  said. 

She  followed  him  across  the  large,  lofty  room  to 
the  refectory  table  which  had  stood  in  the  back  room 
of  the  shop  on  Fourth  Avenue  for  so  many  years, 
there  acquiring  all  the  age  of  which  it  could  boast.  A 
silver  Jacobean  box  was  open  and  in  it  there  were  Rus- 


6  SCANDAL 

sian  cigarettes  upon  which  York's  imaginary  crest  had 
been  stamped.     He  had  himself  designed  it. 

"Thank  you.  How  is  it  that  you're  here?  The 
last  time  I  saw  you,  you  said  you  were  going  to 
Gloucester  for  the  summer." 

York  put  his  face  as  near  to  the  girl's  round  shoul- 
der as  he  dared.  "  I  went  there,"  he  said,  "  on  the 
last  of  April,  but  I  had  to  come  back  last  week  to  see 
the  architects  of  a  new  theatre.  They've  asked  me 
to  paint  a  series  of  panels  for  the  foyer.  It's  a  nui- 
sance ;  but  —  although  I  dare  say  it's  never  occurred 
to  you  —  there  are  some  people  in  the  world  who  must 
work  to  live."  He  raised  his  glass,  adopted  an  ex- 
pression of  adoration  in  which  there  was  a  mixture 
of  humbleness  and  confidence,  and  added :  "  I'd  have 
come  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  for  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  to-night." 

Beatrix  looked  at  him  with  a  smile  of  amused  ap- 
preciation. "  How  well  you  do  that  sort  of  thing," 
she  said.  "  Better  than  any  man  I  know.  Was  it 
born  in  you,  or  did  you  achieve  it  ?  " 

York  placed  what  purported  to  be  a  Wolsey  chair 
just  out  of  the  line  of  light  thrown  by  a  lamp  on  the 
table,  and  metaphorically  hauled  himself  up  for  having 
gone  a  little  too  far.  This  imperious  girl,  as  spoiled 
as  a  Royal  Princess,  who  had  been  brought  up  in 
the  belief  that  all  she  had  to  do  was  to  put  her  finger 
on  a  bell  to  bring  the  moon  and  the  sun  and  the  stars 
to  her  service,  needed  more  careful  handling  than  a 
thoroughbred  yearling.  So  York,  whose  business  had 
taught  him  far  more  than  the  rudiments  of  psychology, 


SCANDAL  7 

hastened  to  become  general  again.  Like  the  filibuster 
who  starts  out  on  an  expedition  to  find  hidden  treas- 
ure, he  had  always  before  him  the  vague,  exciting 
hope  that  some  day  he  might  stand  towards  this  girl  in 
a  very  different  relationship.  "  How  long  are  you  to 
be  in  the  city  ?  " 

"  I  must  go  back  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  said 
Beatrix.  "  I've  only  come  in  to  see  about  a  costume 
for  a  Shakespeare  Pastoral  that  mother  has  arranged 
to  give  in  the  Queen  Anne  gardens.  It's  going  to  be 
produced  by  one  of  the  long-haired  tribe,  and  the 
house-party's  to  be  assisted  by  a  sprinkling  of  pro- 
fessionals. As  it'll  break  the  monotony  of  country 
life  I'm  looking  forward  to  it,  especially  as  I'm  go- 
ing to  play  opposite, —  I  think  that's  the  word, —  to 
a  matinee  idol  whose  profile  is  Grecian,  though 
his  accent  is  Broadway.  You  must  come  and  see 
us." 

"  I  should  love  to,"  said  York.  His  interest  in  pas- 
torals was  infinitesimal,  but  his  desire  to  be  included 
in  one  of  Mrs  Vanderdyke's  house-parties  was  as 
keen  as  that  of  any  woman  whose  whole  life  is  devoted 
to  the  difficult  gymnastic  feat  of  climbing  into  society. 
"  When  d'you  begin  rehearsing?  " 

'  The  day  after  to-morrow.  The  people  who  are  at 
home  at  present  scattered  to-day  and  the  new  lot,  or 
many  of  them,  will  probably  go  by  train  on  Wednes- 
day. Pelham  Franklin  is  to  be  there.  D'you  know 
him?" 

"  Very  slightly,"  said  York.  "  He  lives  in  the  twin 
studio  to  this,  on  the  other  side,  but  as  he  is  mostly 


8  SCANDAL 

away,  either  in  Europe  or  big  game  hunting,  there  has 
been  very  little  opportunity  for  us  to  meet.  I  caught 
sight  of  him  just  now  leaving  the  house.  He's  a  good- 
looking  fellow,  isn't  he?  " 

"  Is  he  ?  Yes,  I  suppose  he  is.  I've  met  him  once 
or  twice  and  danced  with  him,  but  it  struck  me  that 
he  needed  some  sort  of  crisis  in  his  life  to  shake  him 
into  becoming  a  man.  At  present  he's  a  sort  of  un- 
dergraduate, skimming  through  life  with  his  feet 
above  the  earth.  I  believe  mother  entertains  secret 
hopes  that  he'll  one  day  ask  me  to  marry  him."  She 
laughed.  "  I  hear  her  talking  about  the  union  of 
the  two  families  as  though  they  were  the  only  two 
families  in  the  world.  Aunt  Honoria  is  all  in  favor 
of  it,  too.  The  question  of  my  marriage  seems  to 
affect  them  as  though  I  were  the  daughter  of  King 
George  or  someone.  Who  would  suppose  that  we  live 
in  a  democracy?  It's  a  joke,  isn't  it?  Probably  I 
shall  run  away  with  a  good-looking  chauffeur  with 
kinky  hair,  regular  teeth,  a  straight  nose  and  a  voca- 
bulary which  would  put  even  George  Ade  to  shame. 
Or,  I  may  fall  in  love  with  the  matinee  idol  and  fly  off 
with  him  in  a  motor-car  at  midnight,  and  so  be  in  the 
fashion.  My  romantic-minded  companion,  Mrs.  Les- 
ter Keene,  who  lives  on  novels,  cherishes  the  idea  that 
I'm  going  to  elope  with  you." 

"My  God!"  cried  York.  "If  only  such  a  thing 
could  come  true! " 

The  passion  in  the  man's  voice,  the  sudden  flame  in 
his  eyes  and  the  sort  of  picturesque  hunger  which  sud- 
denly pervaded  him  filled  the  girl  with  interest.  She 


SCANDAL  9 

had  always  regarded  him  as  a  sort  of  Shaw  play, — 
a  mixture  of  easy  cynicism,  self-conscious  cleverness 
and  an  obvious  pose.  She  had  been  leading  a  quiet 
life  since  the  season  in  town  had  ended,  riding  and 
playing  tennis  and  swimming  in  the  pool.  She  had 
had  no  opportunity  of  trying  her  powers  upon  any  man 
who  had  been  worth  while.  Her  parents'  friends  were 
all  rather  pompous,  responsible  people  who  talked  pol- 
itics gravely  and  whose  wealth  had  taken  the  sting  of 
joy  and  effort  out  of  life.  It  was  good  to  be  able  to 
play  with  fire  again.  It  exercised  her  wits.  So  she 
seized  the  opportunity  of  leading  on  this  handsome 
person  with  whom  so  many  married  women  had  been 
in  love,  to  see  what  he  would  do. 

"  Is  that  how  you  feel?  "  she  asked,  instinctively  go- 
ing into  the  light  so  that  her  slim  triumphant  beauty 
and  bewitching  youth  should  be  in  full  challenging 
view. 

York  lost  his  head.  His  inherent  conceit  led  him 
to  believe  that  there  was  encouragement  in  the  girl's 
voice  and  attitude.  "  You  know  it  is.  You  know 
that  ever  since  you  came  here  to  sit  for  me,  from  the 
very  first  instant  that  I  caught  sight  of  you  I've  been 
drunk  with  love.  You've  revolutionized  my  life  — 
almost  ruined  me  as  painter  —  because  to  paint  any 
other  woman  is  sacrilege."  He  caught  her  hands 
and  kissed  them  hotly. 

It  was  all  very  well  done.  His  words  carried  most 
amazing  sincerity.  His  attitude  was  extremely  grace- 
ful, and  his  simulated  passion  lent  a  temporary  youth- 
fulness  to  his  face  and  tall,  tightly  compressed  figure. 


io  SCANDAL 

He  managed  to  look  the  complete  lover.     The  stage 
had  lost  a  great  actor  in  him. 

Beatrix  rescued  her  hands  and  stood  up  very 
straight.  This  transpontine  outburst  was  foolish. 
She  had  merely  hoped  for  a  witty  passage  of  arms. 
"  My  dear  Mr.  York,"  she  said,  "  you  and  I  are  very 
good  friends.  Please  don't  run  away  with  the  idea 
that  I'm  a  young  married  woman  in  search  of  adven- 
ture." 

York  was  angry.  He  knew  that  he  had  made  a 
fool  of  himself.  He  hated  to  look  a  fool  at  any  time 
and  he  was  not  sufficiently  master  of  himself  to  recover 
his  ground  by  making  a  well-turned  apology. 
"  Women  don't  come  here  to  be  friends,"  he  said 
thickly.  "  They  certainly  don't  come  alone  at  this 
time  of  night  to  talk  ethics.  You've  no  right  to  snub 
me  —  to  lead  me  on  and  then  cover  me  with  ice-cold 
water.  I'm  not  the  man  to  stand  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Your  cigarettes  are  very  nice,"  said  Beatrix. 
"  May  I  have  another  ?  " 

He  held  out  the  box  and  struck  a  match.  He  stood 
so  close  to  the  girl  that  the  fragrance  of  her  hair  and 
the  gleam  of  her  white  flesh  went  to  his  brain.  All 
the  sensuality  of  the  man  was  churned  up  and  stirred 
and  his  veneer  fell  from  him  like  dry  plaster.  He 
really  did  forget  for  the  moment  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  one  of  America's  richest  men  and  was  not 
simply  the  most  exquisite  young  thing  that  he  had  ever 
seen  during  his  long  career.  He  bent  down  and  put 
his  lips  on  her  shoulder,  with  a  hoarse,  inarticulate 
murmur.  He  had  always  been  very  successful  in  his 


SCANDAL  ii 

love-making.  The  type  of  woman  with  whom  he  came 
most  in  contact  couldn't  resist  the  primeval.  He  must 
have  imagined  that  this  unbridled  and  daring  outbreak 
would  carry  the  girl  off  her  feet.  It  had  happened 
before. 

He  was  mistaken.  Beatrix  was  as  completely 
mistress  of  herself  as  though  she  were  talking  to  a 
hairdresser. 

"  That's  a  pity,"  she  said.  "  I'm  afraid  it  puts  an 
end  to  my  coming  here.  I'm  sorry,  because  I  liked  the 
atmosphere  of  your  studio  and  it  broke  the  monotony 
of  my  gilded  exclusiveness  to  indulge  in  this  sort  of 
mild  Bohemianism,  although  I  thought  that  you  were 
clever.  Will  you  please  let  me  have  my  wrap?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  that?  " 

"  Yes." 

York  obeyed.  He  saw  that  he  had  completely 
spoiled  his  very  remote  chance.  Also  it  was  ob- 
vious that  his  name  would  not  now  be  included  among 
Mrs.  Vanderdyke's  list  of  guests.  "You  fool!"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  You  damned  infernal  fool.  This 
girl's  an  aristocrat  —  an  autocrat  —  a  hot-house  plant. 
You've  treated  her  like  the  wife  of  a  Wall  Street 
broker  from  the  Middle  West."  He  put  the  wrap 
about  the  girl's  shoulders  and  stood  back  endeavoring 
to  assume  a  dignity  that  he  did  not  feel. 

That  kiss  on  her  shoulder  was  like  the  touch  of  a 
slug  on  the  petal  of  a  rose.  Beatrix  resented  it  from 
the  bottom  of  her  soul,  but  her  training,  her  breeding 
and  her  inherent  pluck  gave  her  the  power  to  hide  her 
feelings  and  maintain  an  air  of  undisturbed  indiffer- 


12  SCANDAL 

ence.  Her  knowledge  of  men,  already  great,  made 
her  very  well  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  least  show  of 
temper  might  bring  about  a  most  unpleasant  scuffle. 
She  dropped  her  cigarette  into  a  silver  bowl.  "  I 
shall  look  forward  to  seeing  your  panels  in  the  new 
theatre  with  great  interest,"  she  said.  ".Will  you 
come  down  with  me  to  the  car?  " 

Realizing  that  he  was  no  match  for  this  young  priv- 
ileged person  and  cowed  by  her  superbly  unconscious 
sense  of  quality,  York  led  the  way  across  his  elaborate 
studio  in  which  suits  of  armor  gleamed  dully  and 
massive  pieces  of  oak  reflected  the  light,  to  the  door. 
He  rang  the  bell  of  the  elevator  and  stood  silently  wait- 
ing for  it  to  come  up.  Nothing  else  was  said,  except 
by  Beatrix,  who  gave  him  the  one  cool  word  "  Good- 
bye," as  he  shut  the  door  of  the  limousine. 

York's  man-servant,  of  whom  he  was  so  inordi- 
nately proud,  had  gone  to  bed.  Otherwise,  he  would 
have  been  astonished  to  hear  the  sound  of  smashing 
china.  The  portrait  painter  took  it  out  on  a  Dresden 
bowl  which,  in  his  impotent  rage,  he  dashed  with  a 
characteristically  coarse  oath  to  the  polished  floor  of 
the  room  in  which  most  of  his  love  episodes  had  ended 
with  peculiar  success. 


II 

•: 

THE  Vanderdyke  house  on  Fifth  Avenue  faced  the 
Park. 

It  aroused  the  admiration  of  most  people  not  be- 
cause it  was  an  accurate  reproduction  of  the  famous 
De  la  Rochefoucauld  mansion  in  Paris,  but  because 
on  one  side  of  it  enough  space  upon  which  to  build  a 
high  apartment  house  was  given  up  to  a  stilted  gar- 
den behind  a  high  arrangement  of  wrought  iron.  It 
did  not  require  a  trained  real-estate  mind  to  know  how 
valuable  was  such  "  waste  "  ground. 

The  suite  of  rooms  belonging  to  Beatrix  overlooked 
this  large,  square  patch,  with  its  well-nursed  lawn,  its 
elaborate  stonework  and  its  particular  sparrows.  In 
the  spring,  what  appeared  to  be  the  same  tulips  sud- 
denly and  regularly  appeared,  standing  erect  in  exact 
circles,  and  lilacs  broke  into  almost  regal  bloom  every 
year  about  the  time  that  the  family  left  town.  A  line 
of  balloon-shaped  bay  trees  always  stood  on  the  ter- 
race and,  whatever  the  weather,  a  nude  maiden  of  ma- 
ture charms  watched  over  a  marble  fountain  in  an 
attitude  of  resentful  modesty. 

When  her  windows  were  open,  as  they  mostly  were, 
Beatrix  and  her  English  companion  could  hear  the 
pathetic  whimpers  of  the  poor  caged  beasts  in  the 
Zoo  in  front  of  the  house,  and  the  raucous  cries  of 


14  SCANDAL 

the  Semitic-looking  parrots  above  the  ceaseless  can- 
tata of  motor  traffic. 

The  morning  after  her  lucky  escape  from  York's 
studio,  Beatrix  slept  late.  Mrs.  Lester  Keene  had 
breakfasted  alone  with  the  Times,  saving  Town  Topics 
for  her  final  cup  of  coffee.  She  had  heard  her  charge, 
whom  she  made  no  effort  to  manage,  return  compara- 
tively early  the  night  before,  and  could  hardly  contain 
her  curiosity  to  know  what  had  happened.  It  was 
obvious  that  something  had  taken  place,  because,  as  a 
rule,  Beatrix  came  back  anywhere  between  one  and 
two  from  her  visits  to  the  portrait  painter.  From  a 
sense  of  duty  and  a  fear  of  losing  her  comfortable  po- 
sition, Mrs.  Lester  Keene  forced  herself  to  remain 
awake  on  these  occasions,  sitting  over  a  novel  in  a 
Jaeger  dressing-gown  or  writing  a  long,  rambling  let- 
ter to  a  friend  in  London,  in  which,  with  tearful  pride 
in  her  former  independence,  she  wallowed  in  remin- 
iscence. 

Mrs.  Lester  Keene  was  the  widow  of  a  man  of  ex- 
cellent family  who  had  devoted  all  the  best  years  of 
his  life  to  the  easy  and  too-well-paid  pursuit  of  wind- 
ing and  unwinding  "  red  tape  "  in  a  government  of- 
fice in  London.  He  had  died  of  it  before  he  could 
retire  to  a  stucco  house  at  Brighton  on  a  pension,  and 
Amelia  Keene  had  found  herself  in  the  tragic  position 
of  being  alone  in  the  world  in  the  middle  forties  with 
nothing  to  bless  herself  with  but  an  aged  pomeranian, 
her  undisputed  respectability  and  the  small  sum  paid 
to  her  on  her  husband's  life  policy.  This,  with  the 
laudable  and  optimistic  idea  of  placing  herself  forever 


SCANDAL  15 

out  of  the  reach  of  the  lean  hand  of  penury,  she  had 
entrusted  to  the  care  of  a  glib  city  shark  whom  she 
had  met  in  a  boarding-house  and  who  guaranteed  that 
he  would  get  her  in  on  the  ground  floor  of  a  new  com- 
pany exploiting  the  Eldorado  Copper  Mine  and  bring 
her  in  a  regular  three  hundred  and  fifty-five  per  cent, 
on  her  capital.  With  this  neat  sum  and  others,  how- 
ever, the  expert  philanthropist  with  the  waxed  mous- 
tache and  white  spats  paid  his  first-class  fare  to  the 
Argentine  and  set  up  a  matrimonial  bureau  for  tem- 
peramental South  Americans.  Poor  Amelia  Keene 
sold  her  modest  jewels  and  applied  for  work  at  the 
Employment  Agency  for  Impoverished  Gentlewomen, 
in  George  Street,  Hanover  Square. 

It  so  happened  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanderdyke  were 
in  London  at  that  time  and  in  need  of  a  refined  com- 
panion for  their  only  daughter.  Mrs.  Lester  Keene 
was  one  of  the  several  dozen  applicants  and  had  the 
great  good  fortune  to  secure  the  much  coveted  post 
owing  to  the  fact  that  her  hair  was  grey,  her  complex- 
ion her  own  and  her  accent  irreproachably  Kensing- 
ton. As  Mrs.  Vanderdyke  intended  to  be  the  only 
made-up  woman  in  any  of  her  numerous  houses,  the 
other  applicants  were  naturally  turned  down. 

Like  most  English  people  the  new  companion  had 
never  been  farther  away  from  her  native  land  than 
Boulogne.  She  thrilled  with  excitement,  fright  and 
the  spirit  of  adventure  when  she  joined  the  Vander- 
dyke entourage  on  board  the  Olympic.  To  be  five  or 
six  days  at  sea  was  in  itself  an  almost  unbelievable  ex- 
ploit, full  of  hidden  dangers  and  obvious  terrors.  The 


16  SCANDAL 

mere  thought  of  shipwreck  and  the  possibility  of  float- 
ing for  days  on  a  raft,  in  perhaps  most  unconven- 
tional attire,  appalled  her.  But  the  thing  that  filled 
her  nightly  dreams  with  phantasmagoria  was  the 
knowledge  that  she  was,  God  and  the  elements  willing, 
to  live  in  the  United  States, —  a  great  wild  country  in 
which,  she  had  been  led  to  believe,  men  shot  each  other 
in  the  fashionable  restaurants,  broncho  busters  gal- 
loped madly  along  the  principal  streets  of  the  big  cities 
and  lassoed  helpless  virgins,  murderers  in  masks  held 
up  trains,  black  men  were  hanged  to  lamp-posts,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  and  comic  creatures  with  large  feet 
hammered  people  on  the  head  with  mallets.  She  had 
arrived  at  this  point  of  view  from  several  visits  to  the 
moving  picture  theatres  in  London,  where  American 
films  do  much  to  prejudice  untravelled  Europeans 
against  the  United  States.  Her  astonishment  when 
finally  she  arrived  in  New  York  and  found  herself  in 
what  she  described  to  her  friends  at  home  as  the  Van- 
derdyke  Palace,  was  almost  childish. 

In  no  sense  of  the  word  was  she  a  companion  to 
Beatrix.  Her  narrow  and  insular  point  of  view,  her 
characteristic  English  method  of  clinging  to  shibbo- 
leths and  rococco  ideas,  and  her  complete  and  trium- 
phant ignorance  of  all  fundamental  things  made  her, 
to  Beatrix,  more  of  a  curiosity,  like  an  early  Victorian 
stuffed  canary  in  a  glass  case,  than  a  useful  and  help- 
ful person.  Beatrix  had  been  born  sophisticated.  As 
a  child  and  a  young  girl  her  arresting  and  palpable 
beauty  had  made  her  an  irresistible  mark  for  boys  and 
young  men,  and  one  or  two  only  of  her  early  episodes, 


SCANDAL  17 

nearly  all  of  which  began  well  enough  but  ended  in 
sometimes  very  rough  attempts  at  seduction,  would 
have  crowded  out  of  Mrs.  Lester  Keene's  whole  hum- 
drum, drone-like  life  every  incident  that  she  could 
recall.  Beatrix  at  once  became  her  companion's 
guide,  philosopher,  friend  and  guardian,  and  derived 
constant  amusement  from  the  little  garrulous,  plump, 
hen-like  woman,  who  knew  no  more  about  life  than  the 
average  dramatist  knows  about  people,  and  who,  though 
completely  dazzled  by  the  hard,  almost  casual  mag- 
nificence of  her  present  surroundings,  delighted  to  live 
in  the  past,  telling  long  and  pointless  stories  of  "  my 
house  in  Clanricarde  Gardens,  you  know,"  "  Mrs.  Bil- 
lings, my  cook,"  "  The  summer  when  Algernon  and  I 
took  the  Edward  Jones's  house  at  Bognor,"  "  My 
drawing-room  was  always  crowded  every  second  and 
fourth  Thursday,  quite  a  Salon,  in  fact,"  and  so  on, 
in  a  glorification  of  the  commonplace  that  was  as  pa- 
thetic as  it  was  tiresome. 

Before  Mrs.  Keene  had  waded  through  the  first 
few  pages  of  her  favorite  weekly  paper,  a  maid  dis- 
turbed her.  "  Miss  Vanderdyke  would  be  glad  to 
see  you,"  she  said,  conveying  the  kindly  but  neverthe- 
less royal  command  with  full  appreciation. 

Mrs.  Lester  Keene  was  glad  to  obey.  Even  if  dear 
Beatrix  had  nothing  exciting  to  tell  her,  she  had  a  very 
curious  piece  of  news  to  impart  to  dear  Beatrix.  So 
she  gathered  herself  together,  rather  in  the  same  way 
as  her  prototype,  the  barnyard  hen  rising  from  a 
bath  of  sun-baked  earth,  and  made  her  way  along  a 
wide  passage  hung  with  the  priceless  old  prints  which 


i8  SCANDAL 

had  overflowed  from  the  lower  rooms,  to  the  bedroom 
of  the  daughter  of  the  house. 

Beatrix  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  four-post  bed, 
in  a  pink,  transparent  nightgown,  her  little  feet  in 
heelless  slippers.  On  a  table  at  her  elbow  there  was  a 
just  placed  breakfast  tray  and  a  new  copy  of  Toicn 
and  Country.  Fresh  from  sleep,  with  her  fair  hair  all 
about  her  shoulders,  Beatrix,  the  one  alive  and  ex- 
quisite thing  in  that  too-large,  too-lofty,  pompous 
room,  looked  like  a  single  rosebud  in  a  geometrically 
designed  garden. 

"  Come  along,  Brownie,"  she  said,  stretching  her- 
self with  catlike  grace,  "  and  talk  to  me  while  I  feed." 

"  You'll  put  something  on,  dear,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  Brownie,  I  won't.  No  one  can  spy  into 
the  room  and  there  isn't  a  single  portrait  of  a  man 
on  the  walls.  So  please  don't  fuss.  It's  far  too  hot 
for  a  dressing-gown  and  in  my  case  why  should  I 
hide  my  charms  from  you  ? "  She  laughed  at  her 
wholly  justified  conceit,  gave  herself  a  very  friendly 
nod  in  a  pier-glass  in  the  distance  and  poured  out  a 
cup  of  coffee. 

Amelia  Keene  could  never  at  any  time,  even  in  her 
isolated  spinster  days  in  the  heart  of  the  country,  have 
brought  herself  to  wear  such  an  excuse  for  a  night- 
gown. Flannel  was  her  wear.  She  was,  as  usual, 
more  than  a  little  uneasy  at  the  all-conquering  individ- 
ualism and  supreme  naturalness  of  the  girl  to  whom 
she  utterly  subjected  herself.  With  the  slightest  shrug 
of  her  shoulders, —  she  dared  to  do  nothing  further, 
—  she  put  the  dressing-gown  that  she  had  offered 


SCANDAL  19 

back  in  its  place,  and  sat  down.  At  any  rate  she 
could  assure  herself  that  she  had  endeavored  to  do  her 
duty. 

"  You  came  in  earlier  than  I  expected  last  night, 
dear,"  she  said,  throwing  the  obvious  bait  of  her  in- 
satiable curiosity. 

Beatrix  laughed  again.  "  Why  don't  you  say  that 
you're  dying  to  know  what  happened  and  lay  awake 
all  night  making  up  exciting  stories,  Brownie  ?  " 

Mrs.  Keene  almost  succeeded  in  looking  dignified. 
"  You  know  that  I'm  very,  very  much  against  these 
late  visits  to  bachelor  rooms,"  she  said,  "  and  have 
always  done  my  best  to  dissuade  you  from  making 
them.  Therefore  I  can  truly  say  that  I'm  far  from 
being  curious  and  am  unable  to  feel  any  sort  of  ex- 
citement." 

Beatrix  bent  forward  and  touched  her  companion's 
cheek  with  an  affectionate  hand.  "  Good  for  you, 
dear  old  wise-acre.  You'll  never  have  to  take  any 
blame  for  my  blazing  indiscretions,  so  don't  worry, 
and  as  you  don't  feel  any  interest  in  my  adventures  I 
won't  bother  you  with  them." 

Keen  disappointment  took  the  place  of  dignity.  "  I 
hope  the  time  will  never  come,"  said  Mrs.  Keene, 
"  when  you'll  cease  to  make  me  your  confidante,  dear." 

Feeling  that  she  had  teased  the  little,  na'ive,  narrow- 
minded,  well-meaning  and  very  human  woman  enough, 
Beatrix  finished  her  coffee  and  lit  a  cigarette.  "  Last 
night,  Sutherland  York  dropped  his  pose,"  she  said. 
"  I  hadn't  ever  taken  the  trouble  to  analyze  the  rea- 
son why  I  went  to  his  studio,  but  thinking  it  over  now 


20  SCANDAL 

I  see  that  it  was  because  I  knew  that  sooner  or  later 
his  assumption  of  super-refined  Bohemianism  would 
break  down  and  I  wanted  to  be  there  to  see  the  smash. 
Well,  dear  Brownie,  I  saw  it.  I  also  heard  it  and,  to 
go  into  the  exact  details,  I  felt  it, —  on  my  shoulder." 
She  put  her  right  hand  on  the  spot  as  though  the  touch 
of  his  sensual  lips  still  stung  her. 

Amelia  Keene  gasped.  "  You  don't  mean  that  he 
kissed " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  Just  here.  I  think  of  consulting  a 
specialist  on  the  matter." 

"My  dear!" 

Beatrix  got  up,  walked  across  the  wide  room  and 
stood  in  front  of  the  pier-glass.  Through  her  thin, 
clinging  nightgown  she  could  see  the  lines  of  her  slim, 
lithe,  deliciously  young  form.  For  a  moment  she 
stood  in  frank  and  open  admiration  of  it.  She  had 
a  keenly  appreciative  eye  for  beautiful  things.  Then 
she  walked  about  the  room,  like  a  young  Diana,  her 
heels  rapping  as  she  went  "  It  wasn't  so  amusing 
as  I  hoped  it  might  be,"  she  added.  "  Scratch  a  gen- 
tleman and  you  find  the  man.  Break  the  veneer  of 
a  cad  and  you  discover  the  beast.  D'you  think 
that  Pond's  Extract  is  strong  enough  to  cleanse  the 
spot?" 

"  He  dared  to  kiss  you! 1  can  hardly  believe  it." 

Mrs.  Keene  looked  like  a  pricked  balloon.  "  Surely 
you'll  never  go  near  him  again  now." 

"  Only  if  I  can  get  a  policeman  to  go  with  me,  or 
an  inspector  of  nuisances.  Brownie,  dear,  my  occa- 
sional evenings  with  art  and  old  armor  are  over.  I 


SCANDAL  21 

must  find  some  other  excuse  for  breaking  all  the  rules 
that  hedge  round  the  life  of  an  ex-debutante." 

"  Thank  Heaven !  "  said  Mrs.  Keene.  "  I've  only 
seen  that  man  once  and  he  reminded  me  of  a  person 
who  used  to  go  down  the  area  of  my  London  house 
and  try  and  persuade  the  maids  to  buy  imitation  jew- 
elry on  the  instalment  plan." 

Beatrix  burst  into  a  ripple  of  laughter.  "  Well 
done,  Brownie.  That's  perfect, —  perfect."  But 
again  her  hand  went  up  to  her  shoulder. 

And  then  the  hen-like  lady  gathered  her  scattered 
wits  together  and  came  up  to  her  own  little  surprise. 
"  It's  quite  time  that  episode  is  at  an  end,  my  dear," 
she  said.  "  Only  about  ten  minutes  after  you  drove 
away  last  night, —  I  was  having  a  sandwich  and  a  glass 
of  port  wine  before  going  to  my  room, —  your  Aunt 
Honoria  bore  down  upon  me.  May  I  say  that  with- 
out giving  offense  ?  " 

Beatrix  drew  up  short.     "  Aunt  Honoria !  " 

"  Yes ;  she  came  straight  up  to  these  apartments, 
looking  more  like  a  beautiful  eagle  than  ever, —  my 
heart  fell  straight  into  my  boots, —  and  asked,  or  rather 
demanded  to  see  you." 

"  Aunt  Honoria !  But  yesterday  she  was  staying 
with  the  Mordens  at  Morristown." 

Mrs.  Keene  was  delighted  to  find  that  she  held  a 
full  hand.  "  I  said  that  you  were  out.  My  dear, 
she  didn't  take  my  word  for  it.  She  marched,  or 
rather  sailed  along  the  passage  to  your  room  and 
stabbed  your  empty  bed  with  her  long,  thin  fingers. 
Of  course  I  followed.  Then  she  turned  to  me  and 


22  SCANDAL 

said:  'Where  is  she?'  I'm  sure  she  didn't  add 
'  woman,'  but  she  as  good  as  did.  She  always  does. 
I  was  terrified.  I  felt  like  a  shop-lifter  before  the 
Lord  Chief  Justice.  She  always  reminds  me  of  a 
great  legal  dignitary  with  her  snow-white  hair  and 
aquiline  nose  and  the  cold,  direct  gaze." 

"  Thank  you,  Brownie,  dear,  for  your  very  charm- 
ing literary  touch,  but  please  go  on."  Beatrix  was 
really  interested  and  curious.  Her  Aunt  Honoria 
Vanderdyke,  the  outstanding  figure  in  New  York's 
most  exclusive  society,  at  whose  entrance  into  her 
box  at  the  opera  the  whole  house  very  nearly  rose 
to  its  feet,  did  nothing  without  a  very  strong  motive. 

"  I  tried  to  tell  a  lie  —  I  did  indeed  —  but  some- 
how it  stuck  in  my  throat.  Under  those  two  mind- 
searching  eyes  I  had  to  say  that  you  had  driven  away 
with  Mr.  Sutherland  York." 

"  Well,  this  is  interesting !  " 

"  '  Ah ! '  she  said.  *  Indeed !  And  how  often  has 
Miss  Vanderdyke  stained  herself  with  the  paint  of 
that  mountebank  ?  '  'I  really  do  not  know,'  I  replied. 
'  Thank  you,'  she  said.  *  That  will  do,'  and  went,  or 
rather  floated  out  of  your  bedroom  and  along  the  pas- 
sage. I  watched  her  from  the  gallery  as  she  went 
down-stairs  and  through  the  door  and  away.  A  won- 
derful woman!  If  only  Queen  Elizabeth  had  been  a 
lady  she  might  have  looked  like  her.  I  honestly  con- 
fess, my  dear " 

Beatrix  held  up  one  pink-nailed  finger.  "  Brownie," 
she  said,  "  I  feel  in  my  bones  that  there  is  going  to  be 
a  row  in  the  family.  I've  been  seen  going  into  York's 


SCANDAL  23 

studio,  Aunt  Honor ia  has  been  informed!  She  heard 
that  I  had  come  to  town, —  came  to  spy " 

"  Oh,  not  spy,  dear.     She  could  never  spy !  " 

"  No,  that's  true.  Inquire  first  hand,  then, —  and 
has  now  gone  home  to " 

The  telephone  bell  rang.  Beatrix's  eyes  gleamed 
with  fun  and  a  sort  of  impish  amusement.  "  Brownie, 
I'll  bet  you  any  money  you  like  that  that's  mother !  " 

Mrs.  Keene  rose.  "  Oh,  no,  my  dear.  Why  should 
it  be  ?  It's  the  dressmaker,  of  course."  All  the  same 
she  hesitated  apprehensively. 

"  Well,  I'll  bet  you.     The  row  is  simmering." 

Mrs.  Keene  nearly  dropped  the  receiver.  "  It  is 
your  mother,"  she  said.  "  She  asks  for  you.  And, 
oh  dear  me,  how  icy  her  voice  is !  " 

Before  going  to  the  telephone,  Beatrix  lit  another 
cigarette,  gave  a  tilt  to  a  comfortable  arm-chair  that 
stood  near  the  little  table,  sat  down,  crossed  one  round 
leg  over  the  other  in  a  most  leisurely  way  and  took 
up  the  instrument.  She  looked  like  a  water-color  by 
Van  Beers  come  to  life. 

"  Good  morning,  Mamma !  How  sweet  of  you  to 
call  me  up  —  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  away  from  the 
glare  of  the  streets  and  reek  of  gasoline,  but  I  can't 
leave  until  to-morrow.  I  must  try  on  my  costume 
twice  before  then  —  I'm  very  sorry,  Mamma,  darling, 
but  —  Well,  give  father  my  love  and  tell  him  that  he 
simply  must  curb  his  impatience  to  see  me,  because 
it's  absolutely  necessary  —  Aunt  Honoria!  Is  Aunt 
Honoria  there  ?  "  She  shot  a  wink  at  Amelia  Keene, 
who  stood  in  an  attitude  of  piteous  trepidation.  "  My 


24  SCANDAL 

very  best  love  to  Aunt  Honoria.  But  it  will  be  impos- 
sible for  me  to  leave  town  at  once.  Well,  then,  ex- 
pect to  see  me  at  tea  to-morrow.  Au  revoir,  Mamma. 
I  wish  I  could  stay  for  a  longer  chat,  but  I'm  just  on 
my  way  out,  with  so  much  to  do." 

She  rang  off  and  burst  out  laughing.     "  A  very 
good  thing  you  were  not  betting,  Brownie." 
.  "Did  Mrs.  Vanderdyke  sound ?" 

"  Angry  ?  Yes,  in  a  white  heat.  Every  word  was 
like  a  grain  of  Cayenne  pepper." 

"  And  is  it  about  last  night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  obviously,  and  probably  the  others.  There 
has  been  a  family  council,  that's  easy  to  guess.  Scan- 
dal has  been  at  work.  Isn't  it  absurd  ?  " 

"Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!"  cried  Mrs.  Keene,  who 
dreaded  disturbances,  would  do  anything  in  her  power 
to  keep  trouble  away  from  her  charge,  to  whom  she 
was  genuinely  attached,  and  saw  starvation  facing  her 
if  she  were  to  lose  her  position.  "  How  very  unfor- 
tunate and  distressing  all  this  is!  And,  oh,  my  dear, 
how  could  you  talk  to  your  mother  like  that  ?  " 

"  My  dear  good  Brownie,"  said  Beatrix,  tipping  off 
the  end  of  her  cigarette,  "  what's  the  use  of  belonging 
to  this  generation  if  I  can't  keep  my  parents  in  their 
place?" 

She  was  just  the  least  little  bit  disappointed  that 
her  companion  failed  to  catch  her  touch  of  satirical 
humor. 


Ill 

AT  the  moment  when  her  maid  was  getting  a  bath 
ready  for  Beatrix  and  was  waiting  in  a  white  marble 
room  filled  with  the  pleasant  aroma  of  scented  bath 
salts,  Pelham  Franklin  wandered  into  the  dining  room 
of  his  studio  apartment  with  his  friend,  Malcolm 
Fraser.  Both  men  were  in  pajamas,  and  even  then 
welcomed  the  occasional  soft  puff  of  air  that  came 
through  the  open  window.  Another  hot  day  had 
fallen  upon  the  city  and  a  blistering  sun  was  already 
high  in  a  cloudless  sky. 

The  dining  room,  like  the  studio  and  the  passages, 
was  filled  with  antlered  heads  and  stuffed  tarpon,  and 
the  skins  of  bear  and  tiger  and  wild-cat.  There  was 
something  finely  and  healthily  inartistic  about  the 
whole  place,  which  more  nearly  resembled  the  work- 
rooms of  a  naturalist  than  anything  else.  The  same 
note  was  struck  by  Franklin,  who,  with  his  broad 
shoulders  and  deep  chest,  his  six  feet  of  wiry  body  and 
small  head,  was  obviously  nothing  but  a  man  and  not 
one  who  had  ever  been  accused  of  being  handsome 
either.  He  shuddered  at  the  word  except  when  it 
was  applied  to  the  royal  mate  of  a  fallow  deer.  All 
the  same,  he  caught  all  discriminating  eyes  for  the 
shortness  of  his  thick,  dark  hair,  the  cleanness  and 
humor  of  his  grey,  deep-set  eyes,  the  rather  aggressive 


26  SCANDAL 

squareness  of  his  jaw,  the  small,  soldierly  moustache 
that  covered  a  short  upper  lip  and  the  strong,  white 
teeth  that  gleamed  beneath  it  when  he  laughed  or  was 
very  angry.  He  had  the  look,  too,  of  a  man  who 
mostly  sleeps  out  under  the  sky,  and  the  sun-baked 
skin  of  one  who  is  not  chained  to  a  city  or  doomed 
to  the  petty  slavery  of  the  social  push. 

"  This  damned  city,"  he  said.  "  This  time  eight 
days  ago  we  were  well  out  to  sea.  If  I  hadn't  been 
ass  enough  to  put  the  yacht  back  for  another  stock  of 
tobacco  the  mail  would  have  waited  and  grown  stale. 
Rotten  bad  luck,  eh  ?  " 

Fraser  grinned  ironically.  "If  it  was  a  question 
of  my  having  to  chuck  a  few  fish  and  give  up  two  or 
three  weeks  of  the  open  sea  to  come  to  the  city  to 
see  about  adding  a  million  or  two  to  my  capital,  d'you 
think  I'd  grumble?" 

"  But  you're  such  a  mercenary  brute.  You  think 
of  nothing  but  money." 

"  Yes,  and  the  only  reason  you're  not  mercenary  is 
that  you  don't  have  to  think  about  it.  Thanks,  I'll 
have  a  sausage.  What  are  you  going  to  do  to- 
day?" 

Franklin  groaned.  "  Sign  deeds  and  things  most  of 
the  morning  at  the  lawyer's,  having  tried  to  make  out 
what  the  devil  they  mean,  and  after  lunch  I'm  going 
to  buy  a  Rolls  Royce.  Say  why  ?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  say  why." 

"Well,  I  say  why  not?" 

"  But  you've  got  five  cars  already.  You  don't 
want  another." 


SCANDAL  27 

"  My  dear  chap,  don't  rub  it  in.  I  can't  help  being 
one  of  those  unlucky  beggars  who's  got  so  much, 
through  no  fault  of  his  own,  that  he  doesn't  want  any- 
thing else.  Don't  heave  bricks  at  me  when  I  wake  up 
with  a  mild  desire  for  something  I  don't  need.  En- 
courage me.  Help  me  to  work  up  an  interest  in  an 
expensive  toy.  Tempt  me  into  getting  rid  of  some  of 
my  superfluous  cash.  It  helps  some  other  feller, 
y'know,  and  anyway  the  only  thing  I've  never  done 
is  to  desire  a  Rolls  Royce,  and  I  dreamt  about  it  all 
night.  Will  you  come  and  let  me  see  if  I  can  break 
your  neck?" 

"  All  right !  A  good  way  of  getting  it  in  shape  for 
to-morrow.  You'll  drive  out  to  Greenwich,  won't 
you?" 

Franklin  looked  up  quickly  from  the  plate  which  had 
been  occupying  his  close  attention.  "  Greenwich  ? 
Why  Greenwich  ?  " 

Fraser  grinned  again.  He  seemed  to  find  a  lot  of 
grim  amusement  in  Franklin.  "  You  read  me  a  tele- 
gram that  you  sent  off  from  the  yacht  accepting  Mrs. 
Vanderdyke's  invitation  for  the  Pastoral  house- 
party." 

"Oh,  my  God,  yes!" 

"  But  perhaps  you'll  have  to  undergo  a  slight  opera- 
tion or  sit  by  the  bedside  of  a  sick  relative,  or  some- 
thing." 

"  No;  I  shall  go.  I  promised  Ida  Larpent  I'd  meet 
her  there." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Fraser,  dryly.  "  I  see."  He  hoped  to 
draw  further  details. 


28  SCANDAL 

But  Franklin  let  :t  go.  There  were  so  many  far 
more  vital  things  to  talk  about  than  women. 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Fraser,  going  off  at  a  tangent. 
"  I  envy  you  this  house-party.  You'll  be  able  to  talk 
to  Beatrix." 

"  Well,  that  won't  worry  me  much."  Franklin  had 
passed  from  sausages  to  Virginia  ham  and  was  still 
going  strong. 

"  Maybe  not.  Your  attention  is  occupied.  It 
would  worry  me  a  whole  lot,  though.  That  girl  has 
a  strange  effect  on  me.  Always  has,  ever  since  I  met 
her.  That  was  before  she  left  this  country  to  be  put 
to  school  in  England.  I  only  have  to  catch  her  eyes 
to  begin  to  tremble  at  the  knees.  Ever  had  that  queer 
sensation  ?  " 

"  Twice,"  said  Franklin,  taking  another  cup  of 
coffee. 

"Who  were  they?" 

"  One  was  a  tiger  in  the  Indian  bush,  and  the  other 
a  crazy  Chinaman  running  amuck  in  San  Francisco. 
They  both  made  my  knees  waggle." 

Fraser  lit  a  cigarette,  inhaled  a  mouthful  of  smoke 
and  let  it  dribble  through  his  nostrils.  The  first  ciga- 
rette is  worth  going  through  breakfast  to  achieve. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  without  any  of  the  self-consciousness 
that  generally  goes  with  the  pulling  down  of  the  fourth 
wall,  "  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Pel,  old  man,  but  I'd 
give  ten  years  of  my  life  to  marry  Beatrix  Vander- 
dyke." 

"  An  expensive  hobby,"  said  Franklin. 

"  Yes,  quite.     But  I  knew  her  when  she  was  a  little 


SCANDAL  29 

bit  of  a  slip  of  a  thing,  before  she  realized  what  it 
meant  to  bear  that  dollar-weighted  name.  She  was  the 
sweetest  kid  I  ever  saw.  She  might  have  been  left 
behind  by  the  fairies.  I  watched  the  gradual  change 
take  place  in  her  and  the  disastrous  effect  of  govern- 
esses who  licked  the  blacking  off  her  boots  and  the 
army  of  servants  who  treated  her  as  though  she  were 
the  First  National  Bank  come  to  life.  I  was  one  of 
the  people,  almost  unnoticed,  who  stood  on  the  pier 
and  watched  her  sail  for  England  with  her  mother 
and  father  and  their  retinue.  Since  her  return  and 
during  the  time  that  she  was  a  debutante  and  every 
newspaper  in  the  country  knelt  at  her  feet  I  have  met 
her  perhaps  a  dozen  times  —  the  opera,  the  horse 
show,  the  races,  and  so  on.  She  has  given  me  two 
fingers  and  half  a  smile.  She  has  been  utterly  and 
absolutely  spoiled.  She  doesn't  seem  to  be  even  dis- 
tantly related  to  the  little  girl  with  the  fairy  face  with 
whom  I  used  to  play  in  the  country.  And  that's  why 
I  should  like  to  marry  her,  and  would  make  a  huge 
sacrifice  to  do  it.  You  may  laugh  and  call  me  all  sorts 
of  a  fool,  but  I  should  like  to  make  it  my  business  to 
chip  off  the  outer  layer  of  artificiality  and  affectation 
which  has  been  plastered  all  over  by  her  training 
and  atmosphere.  I  would  willingly  die  in  hefty  mid- 
dle-age in  order  to  bring  back  into  that  girl's  eyes  once 
more  the  look  that  she  used  to  have  as  a  child,  so  help 
me  God!" 

With  extreme  surprise  Franklin  watched  his  usu- 
ally unemotional  friend  get  up  and  walk  over  to  the 
window.  His  voice  had  shaken  with  deep  feeling  and 


30  SCANDAL 

there  was  a  sincerity  so  profound  in  the  sudden  dis- 
closure of  his  soul  that  it  put  him  outside  the  region 
of  chaff.  And  so  Franklin  left  him  alone  and  swal- 
lowed the  badinage  which  he  had  intended  to  throw  at 
him.  "  Ye  gods !  "  he  thought.  "  I  wonder  if  I  shall 
ever  meet  a  woman  who  will  make  me  think  such 
things  as  that,  or  go  the  eighth  of  an  inch  out  of  my 
way.  I  rather  wish  I  could."  He  possessed  enough 
humor  and  imagination  to  know  that  he  was  not  un- 
like the  girl  under  discussion;  that  he,  like  her,  had 
been  born  in  surroundings  that  were  peculiarly  ar- 
tificial and  altogether  unlike  those  of  the  average  man ; 
that  the  enormous  wealth  to  which  he  had  succeeded 
made  any  sort  of  effort  unnecessary,  and  left  him  with- 
out the  urgent  incentive  for  the  good  and  glorious 
grapple  for  a  place  in  the  sun,  which  made  most  of 
his  countrymen  prove  themselves  and  their  worth. 

He  led  the  way  into  the  studio  where  all  that  his 
life  could  show  hung  on  the  walls.  Each  head  and 
each  stuffed  fish  and  every  one  of  the  skins  had  its 
interest,  but  as  he  looked  round  the  huge  room  he  told 
himself  that  they  all  came  to  very  little  and  proved  that 
he  was  a  fine  example  of  a  man  who  had  done  nothing 
but  play  games.  His  toys  were  very  empty  and  mean- 
ingless. A  new  and  curious  impatience  with  himself 
came  over  him.  He  was  rather  annoyed  with  Fraser 
for  having  shown  him  the  quivering  nerve  of  his  hith- 
erto hidden  sincerity.  "  My  God !  "  he  thought.  "  I 
wonder  when  I  shall  begin  to  live ! " 


IV 

IT  was  twelve  o'clock  before  Beatrix  left  the  house 
with  Mrs.  Lester  Keene  and  walked  down  to  Fifty- 
seventh  Street.  To  the  relief  of  the  gasping  city,  a 
phalanx  of  dark  clouds  had  put  out  the  sun.  A  storm 
which  had  burst  with  great  violence  over  Westchester 
County  was  bearing  slowly  down.  The  air  was  heavy 
and  windless,  and  the  gasoline  vapor  from  all  motor 
traffic  hung  like  an  oily  veil  everywhere.  The  seats 
in  the  Park  were  filled  with  listless  people.  Men  sat 
on  the  tops  of  busses  with  their  coats  off.  The  very 
trees  looked  tired  and  sapless. 

"  I  wonder  how  soon  we  shall  get  the  storm,"  said 
Beatrix. 

Mrs.  Keene  fanned  herself  with  an  envelope.  "  The 
sooner  the  better.  This  heat  is  unbearable.  Don't 
you  think,  dear,  that  you  can  leave  town  to-night? 
I'm  longing  to  get  back  to  the  country." 

Beatrix  crossed  the  street.  The  only  cool  figure 
in  the  city  was  that  of  the  rather  too  plump  young 
woman  who  stood  naked  and  unashamed  over  the 
fountain  in  the  geometrical  open  space  in  front  of  the 
Plaza..  "  Oh,  yes,  I  could,  of  course,"  she  said,  "  but 
if  you  can  put  up  with  another  night  here,  I  won't.  I'm 
not  going  to  allow  mother  and  father  and  Aunt  Hon- 
oria  to  imagine  that  I'm  awed  by  them  —  that  would 
be  weak.  For  the  sake  of  the  whole  of  the  younger 


32  SCANDAL 

generation  I  must  maintain  my  attitude  of  complete 
independence."  She  glanced  at  the  line  of  automo- 
biles which  were  drawn  up  outside  Ahe  famous  shop 
in  Fifty-seventh  Street.  "  The  Dames  from  Virginia 
seem  to  be  keeping  Raoul  fairly  busy.  I  rather  hope 
that  Tubby  will  be  here  to-day.  She  is  such  fun." 

"  Tubby  "  was  the  nickname  which  had  been  given 
to  the  astute  woman  who  had  started  her  dressmaking 
business  in  London  and  extended  it  to  New  York, —  a 
woman  who  had  married  an  Italian  Count  and  who, 
with  consummate  art  and  the  assistance  of  an  imagina- 
tive press  agent,  ran  herself  as  though  she  were  an 
actor-manager  and  her  shops  as  though  they  were 
theatres.  By  charging  enormous  prices  and  calling 
her  frocks  by  poetical  names  she  had  bluffed  the  gul- 
lible public  into  believing  that  she  was  the  last  word  — 
the  very  acme  of  fashion.  Like  most  charlatans  who 
succeed,  she  had  grown  to  believe  that  she  was  what 
she  said  she  was, —  an  artist  who  had  been  sent  into 
the  world  not  for  the  purpose  of  making  money  or  any 
such  vulgar  and  banal  proceeding,  but  in  order  to  de- 
sign coverings  for  female  forms  which  would  leave 
as  much  of  them  as  possible  open  to  the  gaze  without 
causing  the  arrest  of  the  wearer. 

At  the  first  sight  of  Beatrix  there  was  a  stir  and  a 
rustle  among  a  collection  of  tall,  willowy  and  rather  in- 
solent young  women  who  were  lolling  about,  and  a 
whisper  of  "  Miss  Vanderdyke "  was  passed  from 
one  to  the  other.  Tubby's  deputy  wabbled  forward, — 
herself  a  lady  of  very  generous  proportions  who  shone, 
like  a  fat  seal,  in  very  shiny  satin.  "  Oh,  good  morn- 


SCANDAL  '33 

ing,  Miss  Vanderdyke ! "  she  said,  deferentially. 
"  Your  costume  is  well  advanced.  Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  step  upstairs  ?  " 

Beatrix  nodded.  "  Is  Tubby  here  to-day  ? "  she 
asked. 

The  seal-like  lady  looked  as  though  she  had  re- 
ceived a  prod  from  a  sharp  fork.  "  No,"  she  said, 
"  the  Countess  is  feeling  the  strain  of  an  even  more 
than  usually  busy  season.  She  is  undergoing  a  rest 
cure.  As  you  know,  she's  very  high-strung." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Beatrix. 

Followed  by  Mrs.  Keene,  she  went  up  a  wide  stair- 
case painted  white  and  arrived  at  what  Tubby  in- 
variably called  the  "  atelier,"  on  the  first  floor.  Here 
the  Southerners,  to  whom  Beatrix  had  referred, 
were  undergoing  the  apparently  exciting  process  of 
being  tried  on.  There  were  perhaps  a  dozen  women 
in  the  large  airy  room,  and  each  one  was  surrounded 
by  fitters  sticking  pins  into  various  parts  of  them  and 
paying  no  sort  of  attention  to  the  suggestions  or  the 
protests  of  their  victims. 

A  very  special  girl  came  forward  with  the  Shake- 
sperian  costume  that  was  being  carried  out,  or  "  cre- 
ated," as  Tubby  would  say,  for  Beatrix.  It  was  a 
sort  of  Titania  costume,  white,  loose  and  airy,  with  a 
shimmer  here  and  there  of  silver,  which  could  very 
easily  have  been  made  at  home  for  a  mere  nothing. 
The  special  girl,  with  a  quiet  "  If  you  will  allow  me," 
unhooked  Beatrix's  frock,  murmuring  one  or  two  well- 
turned  compliments  as  to  her  figure,  and  helped  her 
into  the  robe  that  was  to  cause  a  sensation  in  the  Queen 


34  SCANDAL 

Anne    gardens    of    the    Vanderdyke    country   house. 

Utterly  unconscious  of  the  other  women  in  the  room, 
Beatrix  swept  up  to  the  astonished  Mrs.  Keene,  and  in 
a  high  clear  voice,  cried  out :  "  Set  your  heart  at  rest ; 
the  fairy  land  buys  not  the  child  of  me.  His  mother 
was  a  votaress  of  my  order;  and  in  the  spiced  Indian 
air,  by  night,  full  often  hath  she  gossip'd  by  my  side ; 
and  sat  with  me  on  Neptune's  yellow  sands,  marking 
the  embarked  traders  on  the  flood;  when  we  have 
laugh'd  to  see  the  sails  conceive  and  grow  big-bellied 
with  the  wanton  wind " 

"  Oh,  my  dear !  "  cried  Mrs.  Keene.  "  Do  you  re- 
member that  there  are  people  present.  That  may  be 
Shakespeare,  but  really  his  choice  of  words  is  very 
shocking." 

Beatrix  burst  out  laughing.  "  You  should  have 
waited  for  the  next  few  lines,  Brownie.  Even  /  am 
going  to  blush  when  I  spout  them  under  the  trees. 
Yes,"  she  said  to  the  girl,  "  I  think  this  costume  will 
do  quite  well.  Don't  forget  to  let  me  have  a  wand. 
The  wreath  I'll  make  myself  of  real  flowers.  Shall 
I  have  to  come  again  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Vanderdyke,  there's  nothing  to  do  now 
except  the  silver  belt,  and  we  needn't  trouble  you  as 
to  that." 

"  Well,"  said  Beatrix,  "  I  shall  leave  town  to-mor- 
row directly  after  lunch.  Be  sure  you  send  the  dress 
round  to  my  house  in  good  time.  Thank  you.  Good 
morning." 

Mrs.  Keene  gave  a  little  cry.  "  Oh,  you've  for- 
gotten to  put  on  your  frock,  dear,"  she  said. 


SCANDAL  35 

"  Have  I  ?    It's  so  hot  it  didn't  seem  necessary." 

Beatrix  came  back.  She  had  already  arrived  half- 
way towards  the  staircase  in  what  was  a  most  be- 
witching undress.  She  never  could  resist  the  tempta- 
tion of  putting  Mrs.  Keene  on  tenter-hooks.  She 
stepped  into  her  frock  and  submitted  to  being  hooked 
up.  She  noticed  that  the  girl  who  had  tried  her  on 
looked  very  pale  and  tired.  "  Aren't  you  going 
away?  "  she  asked. 

A  rather  wan  smile  passed  over  the  girl's  pretty 
face.  "  No,  Miss  Vanderdyke,  not  this  year." 

"  What,  you  aren't  going  to  take  any  holiday  at 
all?" 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  My  mother  has  been 
very  ill,  and  doctor's  bills " 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Beatrix.  "  What's  your 
name?  " 

"  Mary  Nicholson." 

Beatrix  went  over  to  Mrs.  Keene,  who  was  ex- 
amining a  Paris  model  between  the  windows.  She 
opened  a  bag  which  hung  on  the  elderly  lady's  arm 
and  took  out  a  cheque-book.  Armed  with  this  she 
made  her  way  over  to  a  desk,  sat  .down  and  wrote  a 
cheque  for  five  hundred  dollars,  payable  to  the  girl 
whom  she  had  seen  constantly  on  duty  since  the  pre- 
vious October.  This  she  slipped  into  an  envelope  and 
wrote  on  it,  "  Please  take  a  little  holiday  to  oblige 
me  ?  "  And  having  returned  the  cheque-book  to  the 
ample  bag  in  which  Mrs.  Keene  kept  enough  necessi- 
ties to  provide  against  shipwreck  or  other  likely  acci- 
dents, slipped  the  envelope  into  the  girl's  hand  and  said 


36  SCANDAL 

"  Good-bye.     Let    me    know    about    your    mother." 

On  the  way  down  stairs  the  first  crash  of  thunder 
broke  over  the  city  and  heavy  rain  beat  against  the 
window.  "  We  shall  have  to  drive  home,"  said  Beat- 
rix. "  Will  you  ask  them  to  call  up  a  taxi  ?  " 

Her  ladyship's  deputy  came  forward.  "  I  hope  you 
found  the  costume  to  your  liking,  Miss  Vanderdyke." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Beatrix.  "It'll  do  very  well.  I 
shall  have  to  be  very  careful  how  I'm  photographed, 
because  if  I  stand  against  the  light  there'll  be  very  little 
left  to  the  imagination." 

"  This's  an  artistic  age,"  replied  Madame,  with  a 
sly  smile. 

Beatrix  joined  her  companion  under  the  shop's  awn- 
ing, from  the  corners  of  which  the  rain  came  down  in 
long  streams.  The  uniformed  man,  with  "  Raoul " 
on  his  hat,  was  making  frantic  endeavors  to  obtain 
a  cab,  but  without  success.  The  line  of  taxis  outside 
the  Great  Northern  Hotel  had  been  taken. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  shall  have  to  wait,"  said  Mrs.  Keene. 

"  I  don't  mind  the  rain,"  said  Beatrix.  "  Let's  walk." 

"  I'd  so  much  rather  not,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Keene. 
"  Getting  wet  always  brings  on  my  rheumatism,  and 
will  absolutely  spoil  my  dress.  Have  patience  for  at 
least  five  minutes." 

"  D'you  think  I  can  ?  "  asked  Beatrix.  "  Five  min- 
utes is  a  long  time." 

Two  men  drove  by  in  a  new  and  beautiful  limousine. 
The  one  who  was  not  driving  turned  round  and  saw 
the  two  ladies  standing  under  the  awning.  The  car 
slowed  down,  turned  and  came  smoothly  up  to  Raoul's. 


SCANDAL  37 

Fraser  jumped  out  and  stood  bare-headed  in  front  of 
Beatrix. 

"  How  d'you  do  ?  "  he  said.  "  Pretty  bad  storm 
this.  Can  we  drive  you  anywhere  ?  " 

"  Oh,  hello !  "  said  Beatrix.  "  I  thought  it  must 
be  you.  Yes,  it'll  be  awfully  kind  of  you  to  give  us  a 
lift.  Taxis  seem  to  be  at  a  premium.  Mrs.  Lester 
Keene  —  Mr.  Malcolm  Fraser." 

"  How  d'you  do,"  said  Mrs.  Keene,  the  thought  of 
rheumatism  and  a  spoiled  dress  at  the  back  of  her 
cordiality.  "  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  come  to  our 
rescue." 

Fraser  beamed  at  Beatrix.  His  whole  whimsical, 
sincere  and  honest  personality  paid  deference  to  her 
loveliness.  "  You  owe  me  nothing,"  he  said.  "  I 
wish  you  did.  I  only  happened  to  see  you  standing 
here.  It's  Franklin's  car." 

Beatrix  smiled  back  at  him.  He  still  seemed  to  her 
to  be  the  self -constituted  brother  —  the  round-faced 
serious  boy  who  used  to  look  after  her  sled  and  carry 
her  skates  and  make  himself  generally  and  generously 
useful.  "  You  have  a  gift  for  happening  to  see  peo- 
ple when  they  need  you,  Malcolm,"  she  said,  and  he 
was  amply  rewarded. 

Franklin  got  out  of  the  car  and  came  to  meet  Bea- 
trix as  she  led  the  way  under  the  rain-splashed  awning. 

"  How  are  we  to  thank  you,  Mr.  Franklin?  "  Bea- 
trix held  out  a  most  gracious  hand.  "  You  come  just 
at  the  moment  when  I  was  going  to  plough  through 
all  this  wet." 

"  You'd  have  been  soaked  to  the  skin  in  about  a 


38  SCANDAL 

minute,"  he  said.  "  It's  tropical."  He  held  open 
the  door  of  the  limousine. 

He  showed  a  touch  of  reproof  at  her  impatience 
which  Beatrix  was  quick  to  catch.  She  remembered 
that  invariably  when  she  had  met  him  there  had  been 
a  suggestion  of  antagonism  in  his  manner.  For  some 
reason  she  was  not,  she  knew,  altogether  to  his  liking. 
It  amused  her.  "  I'll  ride  in  front,  if  I  may,"  she  said, 
with  the  mischievous  intention  of  seeing  whether  he 
would  try  to  coerce  her  as  he  had  done  once  before, 
"  but  I'll  wait  until  you  get  in." 

He,  too,  remembered  the  incident  at  a  dance  the 
year  before  when  he  had  told  her  that  she  was  sitting 
in  a  dangerous  draught  and  asked  her  to  move,  and  she 
had  declined.  He  stood  up  to  her.  This  spoiled,  wil- 
ful girl  needed  a  master.  He  felt  an  impish  desire 
to  prevent  her  from  getting  her  own  way.  "  I'd 
rather  you  rode  inside,"  he  replied.  "  Then  there'll 
be  no  chance  of  your  getting  wet." 

"  Please  let  me  ride  in  front,"  said  Beatrix,  and  a 
bewitching  smile  and  a  little  upward  look  of  appeal 
settled  the  matter. 

Franklin  returned  to  his  seat  and,  when  Beatrix  was 
in,  made  a  long  arm  over  her  knees  and  shut  the  door 
with  a  bang.  "What  a  girl!"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  As  pretty  as  paint ;  but,  ye  gods,  how  she  needs  the 
spurs." 

As  sick  as  a  dog  that  Beatrix  was  not  with  him, 
Fraser  handed  Mrs.  Keene  in  and  yelled,  through 
another  crash  of  thunder:  "Go  ahead,  Pel!" 

"  Where  may  I  drive  you  ?  " 


SCANDAL  39 

"  Anywhere  you  like,"  said  Beatrix,  airily.  "  I've 
nothing  to  do." 

The  rain  was  running  in  streams  along  the  gutters 
and  the  day  had  gone  as  dark  as  though  it  were  late 
evening.  The  sidewalks  were  deserted  and  people 
who  had  been  caught  were  huddling  under  doorways. 
A  clean,  fresh  smell  had  taken  the  place  of  stale  gaso- 
line. 

Franklin  was  nonplussed.  He  looked  round  and 
saw  the  girl's  delicately-cut  profile  with  its  short  nose 
blunted  at  the  tip,  its  rather  full,  red  lips  and  round 
chin.  She  was  sitting  with  her  shoulders  back,  her 
head  held  high,  and  an  air  of  supreme  unconcern.  In 
no  part  of  the  world,  under  any  sort  of  sky,  under  any 
kind  of  condition  had  he  seen  a  girl  so  delightful  to 
the  eye  and  so  irritating  to  the  temper.  He  and 
Fraser  were  on  their  way  home  and  two  men  were 
going  to  lunch  with  them.  It  didn't  matter  to  her 
whether  he  were  on  his  way  to  a  wedding  or  a  funeral. 
She  had  nothing  to  do. 

He  sent  the  car  forward,  turned  it  into  Fifth  Ave- 
nue and  drove  up  to  the  Vanderdyke  house.  Its  great 
doors  were  boarded  up  and  no  footman  was  ready  to 
spring  out  with  a  huge  umbrella. 

"  I'm  quite  happy,"  said  Beatrix.  "  May  I  sit  here 
until  this  downpour  relaxes  a  little?  It's  a  very  nice 
car." 

Franklin  sent  out  a  big  laugh.  This  young  woman 
took  the  biscuit.  It  might  go  on  pouring  for  an  hour. 
But  she  was  quite  happy,  she  had  nothing  to  do  and 
therefore  he  must  cry  a  halt  to  life  and  its  obligations 


40  SCANDAL 

and  engagements  and  be  content,  and  even  thankful, 
to  sit  at  her  side  until  such  time  as  it  pleased  her  and 
the  storm  to  make  a  move. 

"  Please  sit  here  as  long  as  you  like,"  he  said. 
"  Eraser  and  I  have  some  men  coming  to  lunch  at 
one  o'clock.  Will  you  excuse  me  if  we  get  out  and 
leave  you  ?  " 

"Of  course,"  said  Beatrix,  without  allowing  him 
to  see  the  remotest  inkling  of  the  fact  that  she  knew 
how  much  he  would  love  to  treat  her  as  though  she 
were  an  unbroken  colt.  "  Before  you  have  to  go,  tell 
me  about  to-morrow.  You'll  drive,  I  suppose  ?  I  saw 
your  name  on  mother's  list  for  the  Pastoral  house- 
party,  and  she  told  me  that  you  had  agreed  to  play  a 
small  part." 

"  Yes,  I  shall  drive,"  said  Franklin,  running  his  eyes 
over  her  curiously,  thinking  how  beautiful  she  was  and 
how  badly  she  stood  in  need  of  coming  up  against  love 
or  grief.  "  Fraser's  an  old  friend  of  yours,  it  ap- 
pears," he  added,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  Indeed,  yes.  But  mother  doesn't  know  my  old 
friends." 

"  I  see."  He  knew  that  this  implied  question  as  to 
why  Fraser  was  not  included  in  the  house-party  was 
answered.  This  girl  might  have  served  as  First  Sec- 
retary to  an  Ambassador,  or  have  been  a  leader  of 
society  for  twenty  years. 

Then  he  opened  the  door  of  the  car  and  stood 
bareheaded  in  the  downpour.  "  I  hope  you  won't  be 
obliged  to  sit  here  long,"  he  said.  "  I'll  send  a  man 
along  to  look  after  the  car.  Good-bye." 


SCANDAL  41 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Beatrix,  with  a  perfectly  straight 
face,  but  laughing  at  him  with  her  eyes.  "  Thank  you 
so  much  for  rescuing  and  looking  after  two  lone  fe- 
males." 

"  Come  on,  Malcolm,"  said  Franklin,  shortly. 

And  Fraser,  wondering  what  sort  of  madness  had 
attacked  his  friend,  murmured  things  to  the  equally 
amazed  elderly  lady,  bowed  to  the  calm,  slight,  alluring 
figure  in  the  front  of  the  car  and  went. 

Beatrix  watched  them  duck  their  heads  against  the 
slanting  rain  which  bounced  up  from  the  pavement  and 
hurry  away.  "  I  like  him  for  that,"  she  thought.  "  I 
didn't  think  he  would  do  it."  Then  she  picked  up  the 
speaking  tube  and  called  out :  "  Brownie,  so  that  you 
sha'n't  get  rheumatism  and  spoil  your  dress  we're  go- 
ing to  enjoy  this  shelter  until  the  rain  stops.  And, 
by  the  way,  I  think  the  house-party's  going  to  be  fairly 
interesting  after  all." 


THE  Vanderdyke  house  at  Greenwich  was  built 
upon  a  point  which  jutted  out  into  the  Sound.  It  was 
not  merely  a  house,  it  was  an  edifice, —  a  great  florid, 
stiff,  stone  building  which  might  easily  have  been  a 
town  hall,  a  public  library,  a  museum,  a  lunatic  asy- 
lum or  a  hospital.  It  had  a  peculiar  green  roof  and 
many  turrets,  and  it  formed  a  landmark  which  could 
be  seen  for  miles  from  all  parts  of  the  country. 

A  long  drive  through  beautifully  wooded  gardens 
ablaze  with  lilac  and  rhododendron,  and  wide  lawns 
bespattered  with  uncountable  groups  of  erect  tulips 
did  much  to  soften  the  angular  pomposity  of  the  bar- 
rack which  had  been  built  by  Beatrix's  grandfather. 
Stone  pergolas  covered  with  climbing  roses  on  the 
point  of  bursting  into  bloom  shot  out  from  the  house 
and  hid  the  ample  stables  and  garages.  An  inspiring 
and  invigorating  view  of  the  Sound  caught  the  eye 
through  the  trees.  There  had  been  a  belated  spring, 
after  a  long  and  cantankerous  winter,  but  now  tree 
and  shrub  vied  with  one  another  and  the  first  fresh 
green  of  them  all  was  almost  dazzling.  The  chest- 
nuts, especially,  were  prodigal  with  bloom  and  looked 
like  great  Christmas  trees  thickly  covered  with 
bunches  of  white  candles,  and  everywhere  birds  sang 
and  went  merrily  about  the  little  business  of  their  lives. 


SCANDAL  43 

The  car  in  which  Beatrix  and  Mrs.  Lester  Keene 
drove  up  was  followed  closely  by  Franklin's  new  Rolls 
Royce,  in  the  body  of  which  all  his  baggage  was 
stacked.  Franklin,  who  had  been  driving,  sprang  out 
and  opened  the  door  of  the  other  car.  "  I've  been 
dogging  your  heels,"  he  said,  "  and  incidentally  get- 
ting all  your  dust.  How  d'you  do  ?  " 

"  Don't  blame  me  for  the  dust,"  said  Beatrix. 
"  Why  didn't  you  overtake  us  and  finish  the  journey  in 
bright  conversation  with  the  two  grateful  and  admir- 
ing females  to  whom  you  behaved  like  a  knight  errant 
yesterday?  You  and  I  always  seem  to  have  a  great 
deal  to  talk  about,  don't  we  ?  " 

Franklin  knew  that  she  was  pulling  his  leg.  Hith- 
erto, during  their  occasional  meetings,  their  conver- 
sation had  been  more  or  less  monosyllabic.  He  felt 
tempted  to  say  that  he  preferred  driving  to  talking  to 
women,  but  held  his  peace.  There  would  perhaps  be 
plenty  of  opportunities  of  getting  his  own  back. 

They  passed  a  double  line  of  men-servants  and  went 
into  the  large  hall  together.  Mrs.  Keene  gave  one 
quick  glance  round  and,  imitating  a  rabbit  which  hears 
the  approach  of  enemy,  scuttled  across  to  the  elaborate 
staircase  and  hurried  away.  Mrs.  Vanderdyke, —  a 
very  finished,  rather  too  tall,  insistently  slight  woman 
who  never  raised  her  voice  and  seldom  laughed  and 
seemed  to  be  continually  watching  herself  in  a  men- 
tal looking-glass, —  met  them.  Her  dark  hair  was 
dressed  as  carefully  as  a  salad.  Her  perfectly  correct 
and  well-balanced  face  was  as  well  painted  as  the 
cover  of  a  magazine,  and  without  any  undue  compres- 


44  SCANDAL 

sion  she  wore  a  white  frock  which  might  have  been 
made  for  a  girl  of  twenty-four.  She  gave  her  left 
hand  to  Beatrix  and  placed  a  mere  suggestion  of  a  kiss 
on  her  left  ear.  "  So  you've  come,"  she  said.  Her 
right  hand  she  gave  to  Franklin,  to  whom  she  added, 
"  You  are  very  welcome." 

"Thanks,"  said  Franklin.  "I'm  delighted  to  be 
here." 

And  then  Miss  Honoria  Vanderdyke  sailed  for- 
ward. With  her  white  hair,  thin,  thoroughbred  face, 
rather  frail,  tall  figure  and  old-fashioned  dress  she 
might  have  stepped  out  of  one  of  Jane  Austen's  books. 
Without  any  attempt  to  act  the  part,  she  looked  every 
inch  the  great  lady  and  stood  frankly  and  proudly  for 
all  that  was  best  of  the  generation  which  is  scoffingly 
referred  to  as  mid- Victorian.  She,  too,  gave  Beatrix 
a  perfunctory  greeting  and  the  merest  peck  on  the 
cheek,  and  turned  with  the  utmost  graciousness  to 
Franklin.  "  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said. 
"  Your  father  and  I  were  old  friends.  I  hope  that  we 
may  know  each  other  better." 

Franklin  bowed  over  her  hand.  In  all  his  travels  he 
had  rarely  seen  a  woman  who  so  well  lived  up  to  his 
ideas  of  dignity  and  beauty  grown  old  gracefully. 
"  Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said.  "  You're  very 
kind." 

Then  Mr.  Vanderdyke  made  his  appearance  —  the 
mere  husk  of  a  man  —  uneager,  hypochondriacal,  mel- 
ancholy-looking, grey-headed,  with  a  white  mous- 
tache every  hair  of  which  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of 
utter  depression.  Completely  ignoring  his  daughter, 


SCANDAL  45 

he  gave  a  limp  hand  to  Franklin.  "  I'm  glad  to  see 
you,"  he  said,  without  any  warmth,  and  then  backed 
away  and  began  to  look  at  Beatrix  with  an  expression 
of  such  pained  surprise  that  she  almost  burst  out 
laughing. 

Her  whole  reception  by  the  family  proved  to  her 
that  she  was  now  regarded  by  them  as  the  prodigal 
daughter.  There  was  obviously  going  to  be  a  scene 
presently.  Well,  she  didn't  care.  She  could  hold 
her  own  against  all  of  them.  She  almost  wished  that 
there  was  enough  in  her  relations  with  Sutherland 
York  to  warrant  their  disturbed  feelings.  It  was  like 
eating  an  egg  without  salt  to  proceed  into  a  row  with- 
out a  cause. 

"  I  dare  say  that  you'd  like  to  go  up  to  your  room 
at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Vanderdyke. 

Franklin  bowed,  smiled  and  followed  the  footman 
upstairs. 

Through  the  French  windows  Beatrix  caught  sight 
of  a  number  of  people  having  tea  on  one  of  the  ter- 
races. She  made  no  effort  to  join  them,  but  sat  on 
the  edge  of  a  long,  narrow  table  with  bulbous  legs  and 
selected  a  magazine.  Beneath  her  short  frock  rather 
more  than  two  delicate  ankles  showed  themselves. 
She  saw  no  reason  why  they  shouldn't,  knowing  that 
they  were  worth  infinite  admiration.  Her  father  ir- 
ritably acknowledged  that  he  had  never  seen  her  so 
lovely,  so  cool,  so  self-possessed  or  more  utterly  de- 
sirable in  her  first  sweet  flush  of  beauty  and  youth. 
She  seemed  to  say :  "  Come  on,  all  of  you,  and  get  it 
over,  and  then  let  there  be  peace." 


46  SCANDAL 

Her  challenge  was  eagerly  accepted  by  her  mother, 
who  looked  round  to  see  that  the  hall  was  deserted  of 
guests  and  servants,  and  closed  down  upon  Beatrix 
with  more  anger  in  her  eyes  than  the  girl  had  ever  be- 
fore seen  in  them. 

"  I  don't  quite  know  what's  to  be  done  with  you," 
she  said. 

"  I  thought  it  was  agreed  that  I  shall  play  '  Ti- 
tania/  "  replied  Beatrix,  glancing  up  with  an  air  of 
mild  surprise.  "  I've  brought  a  charming  costume 
with  me." 

Aunt  Honoria  joined  in.  "  In  my  opinion  the  mo- 
ment is  ill-chosen  for  this  unpleasant  business.  It 
might  better  have  been  reserved  until  our  guests  are 
changing  for  dinner.  However,  there's  every  excuse 
for  your  mother's  impatience,  Beatrix,  and  as  the 
matter  is  one  about  which  we  all  feel  very  deeply  it 
will  be  well  for  you  to  take  it  seriously." 

Beatrix  gave  a  little  bow. 

"  In  the  history  of  the  family,"  said  Mr.  Vander- 
dyke,  with  more  feeling  than  anyone  had  ever  seen  him 
display,  "  never  before  has  one  of  its  women  been  con- 
nected with  a  scandal." 

Beatrix  laid  down  the  magazine.  "  Somebody  said 
that  scandal  comes  from  the  mouth  of  Ananias."  She 
gave  them  all  the  epigram  for  what  it  was  worth. 

Her  mother  spoke  again.  "  Aunt  Honoria  has  had 
a  letter  from  a  friend  of  hers  telling  her  that  you've 
been  seen  going  into  the  apartment  of  a  portrait  painter, 
called  Sutherland  York,  late  at  night." 

"  And  coming  out,"  added  her  father. 


SCANDAL  47 

"  I  should  naturally  come  out,"  said  Beatrix,  smiling 
at  him  as  though  he  had  said  an  unintentionally  comic 
thing. 

"  It  has  been  reported  to  me,"  said  Aunt  Honoria, 
"  that  as  often  as  once  a  week  during  the  winter  and 
spring  you've  visited  this  man  alone  at  night.  You 
don't  deny  that?" 

"  Oh,  no." 

"Good  God!"  said  Mr.  Vanderdyke. 

"  And  you  don't  deny  that  you  were  there  last 
night?" 

"  The  night  before  last,"  said  Beatrix  quietly. 

Mrs.  Vanderdyke  almost  raised  her  voice.  "  What 
you  could  see  in  a  flamboyant  creature  of  that 
type- 

"  That  isn't  the  point,"  said  Aunt  Honoria.  "  We 
are  not  concerned  as  to  whether  Beatrix  has  developed 
vulgar  tastes  and  has  found  this  painter  attractive. 
We  are  concerned  with  the  fact  that  for  some  utterly 
inadequate  and  inexcusable  reason,  she  has  surrounded 
our  name  with  a  net-work  of  vulgar  gossip  which,  in- 
evitably, will  find  its  way  into  the  scurrilous  para- 
graphs of  the  carrion  press." 

"For  the  first  time  in  history!"  Mr.  Vanderdyke 
almost  wailed. 

"  We're  very  jealous  of  our  good  name,"  continued 
Aunt  Honoria.  "  We've  endeavored  to  set  an  exam- 
ple to  society.  It's  inconceivable  to  us  that  it  should 
have  been  left  to  you,  old  enough  as  you  are  to  ap- 
preciate the  truth  of  things,  to  put  a  slur  upon  us  and 
with  an  obvious  disregard  for  our  reputation  become 


48  SCANDAL 

the  subject  of  smoke-room  gossip.  I  don't  think  that 
even  you  could  make  me  believe  that  you've  played  the 
fool  with  this  picturesque  person,  who,  I  hear,  makes 
professional  love  to  the  silly  wives  of  men  with  more 
money  than  sense.  I  can  see  that  you've  been  merely 
indulging  your  latent  sense  of  adventure  or  trying  to 
persuade  yourself  that  you've  been  playing  the  hero- 
ine's part  in  a  romance." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Mrs.  Vanderdyke. 

Beatrix  gave  her  a  quick  look.  The  implication  of 
those  two  words  hit  her  hard.  But  she  said  noth- 
ing, and  gave  the  white-haired  lady  another  little 
bow. 

"  A  portrait-painting  charlatan !  "  said  Mr.  Vander- 
dyke. 

Aunt  Honoria  paid  very  little  attention  to  these 
interruptions.  "  That's  my  firm  belief.  Please  God, 
I'm  justified.  You  were  asked  to  return  last  night,  so 
that  this  most  unfortunate  business  might  be  gone  into 
quietly.  You  exercised  the  right  of  modern  youth  to 
tell  us  that  we  might  go  to  the  devil.  Let  me  assure 
you,  my  dear  Beatrix,  now  that  you've  chosen  to  come, 
that  we  do  not  intend  to  be  relegated  to  that  person, 
even  to  oblige  you.  On  the  contrary,  the  point  that 
has  been  gone  into  during  your  absence  is  the  place  to 
which  we  are  going  to  relegate  you." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand,"  said  Beatrix. 

Her  mother  put  in  "  probably  not,"  to  the  peculiar 
discussion  which  was  being  conducted,  on  the  face  of 
it,  as  though  its  subject  were  politics, —  without  out- 
ward heat,  angry  gesture  or  raised  voices,  but  with  an 


SCANDAL  49 

intensity  of  feeling  that  made  the  air  vibrate  all  round 
these  four  ultra-civilized  people. 

"  And  I  am  very  far  from  well,"  said  Mr.  Vander- 
dyke,  with  curious  irrelevance. 

Beatrix  very  nearly  laughed.  "  Dear  old  Daddy," 
she  said  to  herself,  "  how  funny  he  can  be." 

"  We  came  to  a  decision  this  morning,"  said  Aunt 
Honoria,  "  in  which  I  think  you'll  be  interested. 
Your  attitude  over  the  telephone  on  top  of  my  very 
inconvenient  visit  to  New  York  the  night  before  last, 
—  of  which,  naturally,  your  companion  told  you, — 
was  a  pretty  conclusive  proof  that  you're  quite  callous 
of  what  has  been  and  will  be  said  about  you  and  that 
you  show  no  inclination  to  accept  our  demands,  re- 
quests or  pleadings  to  tone  down  your  supreme  indi- 
vidualism to  a  normal  level  and  give  up  playing  the 
ostrich  in  town.  In  short,  my  dear  Beatrix,  we  realize 
that  unless  we  assert  our  authority  this  once  and  make 
it  impossible  for  you  to  get  us  all  into  a  deeper  scandal, 
you'll  continue  to  '  carry  on,' —  I  quote  the  expression 
from  the  language  of  the  servants'  hall, —  either  with 
York  or  some  other  equally  impossible  member  of  the 
long-haired  brigade." 

"  I'm  old  enough  to  take  care  of  myself,  I  think," 
said  Beatrix. 

"  We  don't,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Nor  of  us  and  the  family  reputation,"  added  Aunt 
Honoria,  "  which,  as  I've  said  already,  is  the  point. 
You'll  go  through  with  the  pastoral, —  that'll  avoid 
comment, —  then  you'll  see  a  doctor  and  it'll  be  given 
out  that  your  constitution  needs  an  entire  change  of 


50  SCANDAL 

air  and  scene.  About  a  week  after  the  present  house- 
party  has  broken  up  you'll  join  me  on  a  visit  to  my 
cottage  in  Maine,  and  there  you'll  spend  a  quiet, 
thoughtful  year  learning  how  to  live  from  nature,  with 
my  devoted  assistance." 

Mrs.  Vanderdyke  punctuated  this  sentence  of  banish- 
ment with  an  inaudible  comment. 

A  sort  of  groan  came  from  Mr.  Vanderdyke.  He 
adored  his  only  child. 

With  a  supreme  effort  of  will,  Beatrix  controlled 
an  almost  overwhelming  desire  to  scream  at  what  was, 
to  her  way  of  thinking,  a  form  of  punishment  quite 
barbarian  in  its  severity.  She  remained,  instead,  in  an 
attitude  of  polite  patience,  determining  to  die  rather 
than  to  show  how  awful  the  very  thought  of  such  an 
excommunication  was  to  her,  who  was  only  really 
happy  when  in  the  whirl  of  town  life.  Her  inherent 
honesty  made  her  confess  to  herself  that,  little  as  she 
realized  it  at  the  time, —  never  having  stopped  in  her 
impetuous  desire  to  go  her  own  way  and  carry  out  her 
own  wishes, —  she  had  laid  herself  open  to  every  charge 
brought  against  her.  She  owned  that  her  indiscretion 
had  been  colossal,  and  instantly  dismissed  all  idea  of 
giving  her  family  a  picture  of  the  utter  harmlessness 
of  her  relations  with  York.  She  disliked  and  regretted 
having  brought  the  family  name  into  the  mouth  of 
gossipers  as  much  as  the  three  people  who  stood  over 
her  and  knew  perfectly  well  that  they  fully  intended 
to  carry  the  punishment  out  to  its  bitter  end.  But,— 
and  here  her  fertile  mind  began  to  work, —  was  there 
a  single  living  person  so  foolish  as  to  believe  that  she 


SCANDAL  51 

was  made  of  the  feeble  stuff  that  knuckled  down  to 
the  loss  of  one  whole  exciting  season  in  town  for  the 
lack  of  a  brain  wave  ?  Had  she  ever  yet,  either  in  the 
nursery  or  in  school,  so  wanted  in  courage  or  in  wit  as 
not  to  have  been  able  to  carry  out  a  quick  and  effective 
counterstroke  against  authority  ?  Not  she ! 

She  looked  up,  avoided  the  eyes  of  her  father, 
mother  and  aunt,  and  saw  Pelham  Franklin  in  the  gal- 
lery that  ran  round  the  hall.  He  was  standing  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  looking  at  a  portrait  of  the 
Vanderdyke  who  had  come  over  from  Holland  to  lay 
the  foundations  of  a  great  fortune.  A  sudden  impish 
and  daring  idea  took  possession  of  her.  She  would 
use  this  man,  as  she  had  hitherto  used  any  other  likely 
person,  to  triumph  over  her  present  quandary,  and 
trust  to  her  invariable  good  luck  to  see  her  through. 
It  was  the  legitimate  outcome  of  her  autocratic 
upbringing,  the  fact  that  she  had  had  it  instilled  into 
her  from  babyhood  that  she  had  only  to  raise  her  finger 
to  obtain  her  own  way.  Acting,  as  usual,  on  impulse 
and  not  stopping  to  give  a  second's  thought  to  the  com- 
plications that  might  be  caused  by  it,  she  turned  back 
to  the  three  people  who  stood  waiting  for  her  to  speak 
with  a  very  sweet  smile,  and  the  glorious  knowledge 
that  she  could  turn  the  tables  upon  them  and  become 
top-dog  again.  She  was  going  to  fight  for  that  season 
in  town  with  all  her  strength,  never  mind  who  paid  for 
her  success. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  about  all  this,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
want  you  to  believe  that  I  had  no  intention  of  inspiring 
unpleasant  remarks  or  putting  you  to  all  this  pain. 


52  SCANDAL 

But  you'll  be  glad  to  hear  that  this  story  about  my  visits 
to  Sutherland  York  is  only  half  true, —  like  most 
stories  of  the  kind.  It  hasn't  occurred  to  you,  has  it, 
that  more  than  one  man  may  live  in  York's  apartment 
house  and  that  I  may  have  been  going  to  see  him?  " 
She  saw,  with  a  quicker  action  of  her  heart,  that  Frank- 
lin was  coming  downstairs. 

"  It  makes  no  difference  whether  the  man  you  went 
to  see  was  York  or  another,"  said  Aunt  Honoria,  in  her 
most  incisive  way.  "  The  fact  remains  that  everyone 
is  talking  about  your  visits  to  some  man,  alone  at 
night." 

Franklin  caught  the  words,  gave  a  quick,  sympa- 
thetic glance  at  Beatrix,  whom  he  rather  pitied, —  he 
detested  family  rows, —  and  drew  up  to  examine  an- 
other picture,  with  well-simulated  interest. 

Beatrix  began  to  enjoy  herself.  A  wave  of  exhil- 
aration swept  over  her.  She  had  a  surprise  in  store 
for  her  family  that  would  transfer  her  from  the  po- 
sition of  a  prodigal  daughter  to  that  of  a  Joan  of  Arc, 
a  Grace  Darling,  a  Florence  Nightingale.  Never  mind 
who  paid! 

She  raised  her  voice  so  that  Franklin  should  hear 
her.  "  I  would  willingly  and  without  any  argument 
be  sent  to  the  backwoods  for  a  year  if  I'd  made  a  fool 
of  myself  with  a  man  like  Sutherland  York.  He  was 
never  anything  more  to  me  than  a  poseur  and  a  freak, 
and  as  such  he  amused  me.  But  what  will  you  and  all 
these  people  with  nasty  minds  say  if  I  tell  you  that  I 
had  every  right  to  pay  midnight  visits  to  the  man  who 
lived  in  the  studio  opposite  to  York's,  and  if  there  is 


SCANDAL  ft 

anything  attaching  to  our  name  it  is  not  scandal,  but 
romance  ?  " 

Franklin  wheeled  round.  What  on  earth  was  the 
girl  trying  to  suggest  to  save  her  skin? 

An  amazing  change  came  over  the  three  accusers. 
They  all  knew  that  Franklin's  rooms  were  in  the  same 
building  as  York's, —  Franklin,  the  man  whom  they 
would  rather  see  married  into  their  family  than  any- 
one alive. 

"  W-what  d'you  mean  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Vanderdyke, 
stammering  in  his  eagerness. 

Mrs.  Vanderdyke  lost  her  perfect  reserve  for  once 
and  grasped  her  daughter's  arm.  "  Tell  us !  Tell 
us !  "  she  cried. 

Over  Aunt  Honoria's  face  the  beginning  of  a  new 
understanding  came.  "  What  is  this  right,  Beatrix?  " 
she  asked.  "What  is  it?" 

Beatrix  came  to  the  jump,  rose  to  it  and  cleared  it 
at  a  bound,  with  every  drop  of  blood  in  her  lovely  body 
tingling  with  excitement  and  a  glorious  sense  of  being 
alive,  being  beautiful,  being  able  to  carry  everything 
before  her.  She  was  leaping  from  one  scrape  to  an- 
other, but  in  this  one  she  was  dealing  with  a  sportsman 
who  would  help  her  somehow. 

"  The  right,"  she  said,  throwing  up  her  head,  "  of  a 
girl  who  goes  to  see  the  man  to  whom  she  has  been 
secretly  married." 

She  rose,  and  with  exquisite  shyness  and  her  fair 
skin  touched  with  the  color  that  nature  paints  upon 
the  petals  of  apple  blossoms,  went  across  to  Franklin 
and  ran  her  hand  through  his  arm. 


54  SCANDAL 

"  Play  up,"  she  whispered.     "  Oh,  please  play  up." 
"  The  little  devil,"  thought  Franklin.     "  Take  the 
biscuit  ?     Ye  gods,  she  collars  the  whole  blessed  cake !  " 
What  could  he  do,  under  such  extraordinary  circum- 
stances and  with  such  a  sweet  appeal,  but  smile  and  pat 
her  hand  and  stand  there,  in  front  of  the  delighted  and 
astonished  family,  with  just  that  suggestion  of  charm- 
ing sheepishness  that  all  happy  men  wear  when  discov- 
ered in  the  tangle  of  a  romantic  love  story ! 


VI 

IN  her  relief  at  being  able  to  put  a  stop  to  the  ugly 
story  which  coupled  the  names  of  Beatrix  Vanderdyke 
and  Sutherland  York,  Aunt  Honoria, —  who  invariably 
took  the  lead  in  all  matters  relating  to  her  family, — 
not  only  at  once  gave  out  to  the  house-party  the  news 
of  the  romantic  marriage  of  her  niece  and  Pelham 
Franklin,  but,  with  her  characteristic  thoroughness, 
called  up  the  editor  of  the  New  York  Times  and  gave 
it  to  him  for  immediate  publication.  In  her  mind's  eye 
she  saw  the  front  page  of  the  next  day's  issue  setting 
forth  under  big  headlines,  with  photographs  of  the 
happy  couple,  an  elaborate  account  of  the  wealth  and 
importance  of  the  families  of  Vanderdyke  and  Frank- 
lin. This  would  be  taken  up  and  spun  out  by  all  the 
other  papers  in  the  country,  and  then,  she  rejoiced  to 
know,  would  be  killed  the  insidious  scandal  with  which 
the  family  name  had  been  connected  to  the  horror  and 
pain  of  all  who  bore  it. 

Neither  she,  nor  any  of  the  members  of  the  house 
party,  stopped  to  ask  a  single  question.  They  had 
swallowed  the  story  of  Beatrix  and  Sutherland  York 
whole.  They  now  swallowed  the  news  of  the  secret 
marriage  with  the  same  appetite.  It  is  the  human  way. 
The  details  mattered  nothing.  The  motive  which  led 
to  so  unusual  a  proceeding  as  a  secret  marriage,  the 


56  SCANDAL 

place  and  date  of  the  ceremony,  mattered  nothing. 
They  had  all  believed  without  corroboration  that  Bea- 
trix had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  picturesque  attractions 
of  the  much-advertised  portrait  painter.  In  the  same 
way  they  accepted  the  new  and  much  more  exciting  fact 
and  hastened  to  congratulate  their  hostess  and  the  two 
young  people  concerned. 

Beatrix  found  herself,  as  she  knew  that  she  would, 
the  heroine  of  the  family.  Her  mother  smiled  upon 
her  during  the  remainder  of  the  day  and  frequently 
placed  her  usually  unemotional  hand  on  her  daughter's 
shoulder  and  said:  "  My  dear,  dear  child,"  or  "  dear 
Beatrix." 

Her  father, —  that  rather  pathetic  figure,  a  man 
who  had  never  done  a  stroke  of  work  since  his  birth  — 
whose  immense  wealth  had  utterly  deprived  him  of  the 
initiative  to  do  things,  conquer  things  or  achieve  things, 
and  who  found  himself  in  late  middle-age  without  hav- 
ing discovered  the  master-secret  of  life  —  how  to  live, 
—  came  out  of  his  almost  settled  melancholia  for  the 
time  being  and  behaved  at  dinner  like  any  ordinary 
healthy,  normal  man,  laughing  frequently  and  crack- 
ing little  jokes  with  his  guests.  Whenever  he  caught 
his  daughter's  eyes  he  gave  her  the  most  tender  and 
appreciative  smile,  and  came  so  far  out  of  his  shell  as 
to  raise  his  glass  to  Franklin,  who  responded  with  a 
very  queer  smile. 

As  for  Aunt  Honoria, —  a  past-mistress  in  the  art  of 
graciousness, —  so  proud  and  happy  was  she  that  her 
pet  ambition  of  a  union  between  her  family  and  Frank- 
lin's had  been  fulfilled,  that  she  readily  forgave  the  un- 


SCANDAL  '57 

i 

conventional  behavior  of  the  two  young  people,  the  lack 
of  a  wonderful  wedding  and  a  great  society  function, 
and  beamed  upon  them  both.  She  caught  Beatrix  as 
she  was  about  to  dash  upstairs  to  change  for  dinner  and 
folded  her  arms  about  the  girl,  whose  eyes  danced  with 
the  spirit  of  mischief  and  the  sheer  fun  of  it  all.  "  My 
darling,"  she  said,  "  you've  made  me  very  happy.  No 
wonder  you  came  home  to-day  defiant  and  with  a  high 
head.  You  held  a  royal  flush.  You've  won  the  love 
of  a  man,  my  dear.  Honor  and  respect  it,  and  may 
God  bless  you !  "  . 

Upstairs  in  her  room,  whose  windows  gave  a  view  of 
the  Sound  that  was  indescribably  charming,  Beatrix 
had  a  brief,  almost  breathless  talk  with  Mrs.  Lester 
Keene,  to  whom  the  story  of  the  secret  marriage  had 
come  as  a  frightful  shock.  This  amiable,  weak 
woman,  hide-bound  in  her  ideas  of  right  and  wrong, 
met  her  with  nerves  unstrung,  and  incoherent  in  her 
terror  of  being  implicated  in  what  she  knew  to  be  a 
lie. 

But  Beatrix  waved  her  stammering  reproaches  aside. 
"  Brownie,"  she  cried,  at  the  top  of  her  form,  "  what- 
ever happens  you're  safe,  so  don't  worry.  I've  jumped 
out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire,  but  I'm  an  excellent 
jumper  and  I  believe  in  luck.  I  dare  not  think  where 
the  next  spring  will  land  me,  so  I'm  not  going  to  think. 
Sufficient  unto  the  day,  you  know,  and  Franklin  is  a 
sportsman.  All  I  know  is  that  at  this  moment  I'm 
the  little  pet  of  all  the  world ;  that  I  had  the  unspeak- 
able delight  of  turning  the  tables  on  my  people  and  that 
I  feel  as  beautiful  as  I  look, —  and  that's  saying  a  good 


58  SCANDAL 

deal.  Now  run  away  and  tell  Helene  to  come  and 
dress  me  as  befits  a  young  wife  still  on  her  honey- 
moon." She  gave  the  elderly,  disturbed  lady  a  kiss  on 
both  her  cheeks,  shooed  her  out  of  the  room  and  broke 
into  song. 

Only  once  during  dinner  did  she  permit  herself  to 
meet  Franklin's  eyes  and  then,  for  the  first  time  since 
she  had  sprung  her  suddenly  conceived  surprise  upon 
her  irate  family,  she  received  a  momentary  shock 
which  ran  through  her  body  like  that  of  electricity, 
leaving  her  tingling  and  frightened.  But  with  her 
abounding  capacity  for  recovery  and  her  all-conquer- 
ing belief  in  herself  and  her  gift  for  getting  out  of 
scrapes  she  shook  the  feeling  off  and  went  through  the 
rest  of  the  evening  in  the  highest  spirits.  No  one 
had  ever  seen  her  looking  so  brilliantly  or  so  ex- 
quisitely beautiful.  Her  eyes  shone  like  stars,  her 
dimples  came  and  went  and  came  again.  She  was  the 
life  of  the  house,  moving  from  group  to  group  like  a 
young  Helen  —  a  wood  nymph  —  the  very  spirit  of 
joy  and  laughter.  Not  for  the  ninety-ninth  part  of  a 
second  did  she  permit  herself  to  pull  up  and  wonder 
what  she  had  done ;  where  her  impetuous,  hare-brained, 
autocratic  desire  for  self-preservation  might  lead. 
Never  for  an  instant,  or  the  fraction  of  an  instant,  did 
she  give  a  thought  to  the  appalling  difficult  position 
into  which  her  spur-of-the-moment  scheme  had  placed 
Franklin.  What  she  had  done  she  had  done,  and  there, 
for  the  time  being,  was  the  end  of  it.  Somehow  or 
other  everything  would  come  right,  as  it  always  did. 
Why  else  was  she  who  she  was?  Why  else  had  she 


SCANDAL  59 

been  led  to  believe  that  the  earth,  the  sun  and  the  moon 
were  hers.  It  was  all  the  natural  correlation  of  her 
training  since  she  had  been  brought  into  the  world. 

Franklin  allowed  Beatrix  to  avoid  a  talk  with  him 
until  many  of  the  guests  had  gone  to  bed.  Between 
the  moment  when  she  had  slipped  her  arm  through  his 
and  made  that  urgent  and  almost  childlike  appeal 
which  had  carried  him  off  his  feet  and  left  him  with- 
out caution  and  sanity,  and  the  one  when  he  stalked 
across  the  pompous  hall  to  her  side  and  drew  her  into 
an  alcove,  he  had  done  some  peculiar  thinking.  He 
was  a  straight-going,  honest  fellow,  who,  like  Beatrix, 
had  gone  through  life  having  his  own  way.  No  living 
soul  had  ever  before  coerced  him  from  the  path  that 
he  had  chosen.  He  was  in  no  sense  of  the  word  a 
lady's  man,  and  he  had  no  idea  of  marrying  and 
settling  down  until  he  had  had  enough  of  hunting 
and  camping. 

He  had  watched  Beatrix  closely.  He  had  seen  her 
reinstated  into  the  family  favor,  taking  the  congratu- 
lations that  were  poured  upon  her  by  them  and  their 
friends  with  a  charming  dignity  that  took  his  breath 
away.  He  guessed,  of  course,  that  he  had  been 
"  used  "  by  Beatrix  to  save  herself  from  punishment, 
because  he  had  been  obliged  to  overhear  the  last  part 
of  the  family  attack.  But  he  expected  from  moment 
to  moment  that  she  would  either  permit  him  to  deny 
the  story  of  the  secret  marriage  or  do  so  herself.  It 
was  inconceivable  to  him  that  this  lie  was  to  be  allowed 
to  get  them  both  deeper  and  deeper  into  a  most  de- 
plorable tangle. 


60  SCANDAL 

He  was  blazing  with  anger  when  at  last  he  found 
her  alone  for  a  moment,  and  he  made  no  -attempt  to 
hide  it.  "  I  want  a  word  with  you,"  he  said  shortly. 

Beatrix  tried  to  escape.  "  A  little  later,"  she 
said. 

"  No,  now." 

"  I'm  so  sorry " 

Franklin  took  her  arm  and  led  her  into  the  quiet 
corner.  "  Sit  down,"  he  said. 

There  was  something  so  new  and  refreshing  in  re- 
ceiving orders,  that  Beatrix  gave  a  little  laugh  and 
obeyed. 

Franklin  took  a  seat  at  her  side.  Their  knees  al- 
most touched. 

"  You  evidently  take  me  for  many  kinds  of  a  fool," 
he  said. 

"  Not  at  all.  May  I  trouble  you  for  a  cushion  ?  " 
She  bent  slightly  forward. 

He  placed  one  behind  her  back.  "  Whether  you  do 
or  not,  you've  made  me  one, —  the  most  colossal  ex- 
ample of  a  damned  idiot  I've  ever  struck." 

"  Oh,  please  don't  say  that." 

Franklin's  eyes  flicked.  This  girl  could  be  flippant 
under  such  circumstances,  could  she?  She  could  sit 
knee  to  knee  with  an  angry  man  and  remain  as  self- 
possessed  and  undisturbed  as  though  she  were  rest- 
ing between  dances.  Well,  he  would  show  her  with 
whom  she  was  dealing ! 

"  Before  your  mother  goes  to  bed,"  he  said,  "  I'm 
going  to  put  my  foot  through  this  yarn  of  yours  and 
give  the  game  away." 


SCANDAL  61 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Beatrix,  "  you'll  certainly  not 
do  that" 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because,  in  addition  to  many  other  attributes,  you 
happen  to  be  a  sportsman." 

"  But  how  long  d'you  imagine  I'm  to  let  this  thing 
go  on  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  thought  about  it." 

"  Don't  you  see  that  you'd  better  begin  to  think 
pretty  quickly?  " 

"  No.  Everything  is  going  very  well.  Why  dis- 
turb it?" 

"  But  look  at  it  from  my  point  of  view." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth  —  I  usually  do  tell  the  truth 
—  to-day  has  been  the  exception  that  proves  the  rule, — : 
I'm  only  able  at  present  to  look  at  it  from  mine." 

"  You  realize  that  every  hour  makes  the  whole  thing 
more  impossible.  It'll  all  be  in  the  papers  to-mor- 
row." 

"  Isn't  that  exciting?  I  hope  they'll  be  able  to  get 
an  attractive  photograph  of  you."  Her  heart  was 
beating  more  and  more  quickly. 

Franklin  began  to  pull  his  short  moustache.  He 
hardly  dared  to  trust  to  his  choice  of  words.  Yes- 
terday he  had  told  himself  that  this  girl  wanted  the 
spurs.  The  thought  came  back  to  him  as  he  sat  rack- 
ing his  brain  for  some  way  out  of  the  ghastly  mess 
into  which  she  had  placed  him.  He  saw  that  it  was  no 
earthly  use  to  endeavor  to  talk  sensibly  to  her  and 
that  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  hold  him  to  the 
mad  plan  of  escape  into  which  she  had  dragged  him. 


62  SCANDAL 

Very  good.  He  would  show  her  that  sportsmen  were 
also  very  human  men. 

He  raised  his  finger  to  a  footman  who  was  crossing 
the  hall.  "  Have  my  things  taken  at  once  from  my 
room  to  Mrs.  Franklin's,"  he  said,  and,  as  the  man 
bowed  and  went,  put  his  hand  under  the  elbow  of  the 
girl  —  who  had  turned  as  white  as  the  gardenia  at  her 
waist  —  and  added :  "  Let's  go  and  say  good  night, 
darling.  It's  time  for  bed." 

Beatrix  turned  upon  him  and  wrenched  her  arm 
away.  "  You  don't  know  what  you're  saying,"  she 
said. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do.  You've  had  your  way  to-day,  I'm 
going  to  have  mine  to-night.  Two  can  play  your 
game,  you  know,  and  I'm  going  to  show  you  how  com- 
pletely I  can  play  it  when  I  choose." 

He  took  her  hand  in  a  grip  of  iron  and  led  her  to 
where  Mrs.  Vanderdyke  was  standing  with  Aunt  Ho- 
noria.  He  looked  the  loving  husband  to  the  life. 
"  Good  night,"  he  said.  "  Bee  and  I  are  rather  tired 
after  an  exciting  day." 

Mrs.  Vanderdyke  gave  him  her  hand,  with  her  best 
smile.  "  And  to-morrow  we  begin  rehearsing  and 
shall  all  be  very  busy.  Good  night." 

"  You  look  quite  tired,  my  darling,"  said  Aunt 
Honoria  tenderly. 

Beatrix  received  the  kiss,  tried  to  return  the  smile 
and  to  find  even  one  word  to  say,  but  her  heart  was 
trembling,  and  her  hand  was  held  so  tight  that  her 
fingers  were  crushed  together.  She  heard  other  re- 
marks as  though  they  were  spoken  a  long  way  off,  felt 


SCANDAL  63 

herself  guided  and  controlled  up  the  wide  stairway  as 
if  she  were  walking  in  a  dream,  and  found  herself 
standing  in  the  gallery. 

"  Which  is  your  room !  " 

It  was  not  a  question.  It  was  an  order,  sharp  and 
short. 

She  pointed  to  the  door,  shaking  like  a  frightened 
deer. 

But  when  she  stood  inside  her  room,  heard  the  door 
shut  and  locked,  and  saw  Franklin  with  his  white 
teeth  gleaming  under  his  moustache,  her  voice  came 
back  and  she  clasped  her  hands  together  in  a  very 
ecstasy  of  appeal. 

"Let  me  off!     Please,  please  let  me  off!  " 

Franklin  shot  out  a  laugh.  "  Not  I.  .You've  told 
everybody  that  you're  my  wife.  Good.  tLive  up  to 
it." 

He  took  the  key  out  of  the  lock  and  put  it  in  his 
pocket.  Then  he  sat  down  and  crossed  one  leg  over 
the  other.  "  How  long  will  you  be  ?  "  he  asked. 

This  girl  needed  the  spurs.  He  intended  to  use 
them. 


VII 

THE  sound  of  the  key  turning  in  the  lock  of  her 
door  had  an  instant  and  peculiar  effect  on  Beatrix.  It 
awoke  in  her  the  same  primeval  spirit  which  had  car- 
ried Franklin  into  her  bedroom  on  the  wave  of  an 
infuriated  impulse.  It  made  her  realize  that  the  time 
for  protest  was  over ;  that  the  moment  when  she  could 
appeal  (with  any  hope  of  success)  to  this  man's  sense 
of  honor  had  passed.  It  was  through  her  own  action, 
and  she  knew  it,  that  she  had  cracked  the  skin-deep 
veneer  of  Civilization  and  rendered  Franklin  the  mere 
savage  which  most  men  become  under  the  influence  of 
one  or  other  of  the  passions. 

Self-preservation  was  the  instinct  which  was  now 
uppermost  in  her  mind.  Alone,  without  help,  with 
only  her  native  wit  to  fall  back  on,  she  had  to  save  her- 
self from  the  almost  unbelievable  crisis  that  she  had 
so  lightly  brought  about.  She  grasped  this  fact 
quickly  enough.  One  look  at  Franklin's  face  made  it 
plain, —  his  blazing  eyes,  his  set  mouth,  the  square- 
ness of  his  jaw. 

It  was  characteristic  of  her,  however,  that  while 
still  under  the  first  shock  of  his  threat,  his  presence 
and  the  knowledge  that  he  intended  to  carry  out  his 
purpose  with  all  the  cold-bloodedness  and  cruelty 
which  comes  from  wounded  vanity,  the  thought  of  the 
fight  which  faced  her  filled  her  with  a  sort  of  mental 


SCANDAL  65 

delight.  Here,  if  you  like,  was  something  new  upon 
which  she  could  bend  her  whole  ingenuity  —  some- 
thing which  sent  the  monotony  of  her  all-too-complete 
existence  flying  as  before  a  cyclone.  Her  blood 
danced.  Her  spirits  rose.  Her  eyes  sparkled  like 
those  of  the  mountaineer  who  stands  at  the  foot  of  a 
summit  which  has  hitherto  been  unclimbed.  She  gave 
a  little  laugh  as  all  these  things  flashed  through  her 
brain.  She  thrilled  with  the  sense  of  adventure 
which  had  always  been  latent  in  her  character  and 
which  was  the  cause  of  the  amazing  position  in  which 
she  now  found  herself.  Like  a  superb  young  animal 
brought  to  bay,  she  turned  to  defend  herself,  strung  up 
to  fight  with  every  atom  of  her  mental  and  physical 
strength  for  that  which  counted  for  more  than  life. 
That  she  regarded  her  antagonist  with  respect  sur- 
prised her  a  little,  but  she  was  glad  to  make  the  dis- 
covery, because  it  made  the  fight  all  the  more  worth 
while.  She  recognized  in  this  tall,  wiry,  dark-haired 
man,  who  looked  in  the  very  pink  of  condition  and 
bore  on  his  well-cut  young  face  the  tan  of  sun  and 
wind,  someone  who  had  in  him  every  single  one  of  her 
own  faults,  whose  training  and  environment  were  the 
same  as  her  own,  who  had  been  made  as  impatient  of 
control  from  the  possession  of  excessive  wealth  as  she 
was,  and  whose  capacity  for  becoming  untamed  the 
very  moment  that  the  thin  layer  of  culture  which  edu- 
cation gives  falls  in  front  of  passionate  resentment  was 
similar  in  every  way  to  that  which  had  made  her 
lie  to  her  family. 

It  was  with  the  feeling  that  she  was  leading  lady 


66  SCANDAL 

in  an  extremely  daring  society  drama,  that  she  took 
what  she  inwardly  called  the  stage,  as  much  mistress 
of  herself  as  she  had  been  in  the  rooms  of  the  portrait 
painter.  When  she  turned  up  the  shaded  lights  on 
her  dressing-table  and  over  the  fireplace  she  did  so 
with  the  rhythmic  movement  and  the  sense  of  time 
which  would  have  been  hers  had  she  rehearsed  the 
scene  and  been  now  playing  it  to  a  crowded  house  on 
the  first  night  of  a  metropolitan  production.  She 
seemed  to  hear  the  diminuendo  of  the  orchestra  and 
to  feel  that  curious  nervous  exhilaration  that  comes 
from  the  knowledge  of  being  focused  by  thousands  of 
unseen  eyes.  It  was  surely  an  almost  uncanny  sense 
of  humor  which  allowed  her  to  stand  outside  herself 
in  this  way  and  watch  all  her  movements  as  though 
they  were  those  of  another  person.  But, —  she  knew 
her  part.  She  had  the  confidence  of  one  who  has  com- 
pletely memorized  her  lines.  Her  triumph  would  be 
complete  when  she  succeeded  in  making  Franklin  put 
the  key  back  into  the  lock  of  her  door  and  remove  him- 
self from  her  presence. 

As  Franklin  examined  the  room  in  which  he  never 
imagined  that  he  would  find  himself  and  had  no  de- 
sire to  be  his  determination  to  get  even  with  the 
spoiled  girl  who  had  used  him  to  get  herself  out  of  a 
family  fracas  grew  stronger  and  stronger.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  room, —  almost  insolent  in  its  evidences 
of  wealth, —  was  symbolic.  It  was  not,  he  saw,  the 
room  of  a  young,  healthy,  normal  girl  so  much  as  of 
a  woman  of  the  world,  a  highly  finished,  highly  fas- 
tidious mondaine,  who  had  won  the  right  to  live  in  an 


SCANDAL  67 

atmosphere  of  priceless  tapestries,  historic  furniture, 
and  a  luxury  that  was  quite  Roman.  He  ran  his  eyes 
scornfully  about  and  scoffed  at  the  four-poster  bed  in 
which  a  French  queen  might  have  received,  and  prob- 
ably did  receive,  the  satellites  and  flatterers  of  her 
court ;  and  saw  through  an  open  door  not  a  mere  bath- 
room, but  a  pool,  marble-lined,  with  florid  Byzantine 
decorations,  discreetly  lit.  This  thing  angered  him. 
It  stood,  he  thought,  as  the  reason  for  this  girl's  dis- 
torted idea  of  life  —  of  her  myopic  point  of  view.  It 
stood  for  many  thousands  of  misplaced  dollars  which 
would,  if  sanely  used,  have  provided  much-needed 
beds  for  the  accident  wards  of  a  hospital. 

Not  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Franklin  stag- 
gered at  the  sight  of  the  abnormality  of  excessive 
wealth,  and  felt  that  he  himself,  like  Beatrix,  was 
nearer  to  lunacy  than  the  ordinary  human  being  be- 
cause of  the  possession  of  it.  The  queer  paradox  of 
his  having  been  made  the  instrument  to  bring  this  girl 
down  from  the  false  pedestal  upon  which  she  had 
stood  ever  since  she  was  born,  also  struck  him.  He 
had  never  been  much  given  to  self -analysis  or  to  the 
psychological  examination  of  social  conditions;  but  as 
he  sat  there  in  that  large,  lofty  and  extravagant,  al- 
most grotesquely  furnished  bedroom,  more  closely  re- 
sembling that  of  one  or  other  of  the  great  courtezans 
than  of  an  American  girl  in  the  first  exquisite  flush  of 
youth,  he  came  to  the  conclusion,  with  a  savage  sense 
of  justice,  that  he  would  be  doing  something  for  civil- 
ization by  bringing  this  millionaire's  daughter  face  to 
face  with  the  grim  truth  of  things^ 


68  SCANDAL 

It  was  Beatrix  who  broke  a  silence  which  had  only 
lasted  a  few  minutes.  "  There  are  cigarettes  at  your 
elbow,'"  she  said.  "  Won't  you  smoke?  " 

Franklin  looked  up.  The  note  of  camaraderie  in 
her  voice  surprised  him.  The  last  time  he  had  heard 
her  speak  it  was  in  a  tone  of  agonized  appeal.  "  No, 
thanks,"  he  replied,  "  I've  smoked  enough." 

"  In  training  for  one  of  your  much-paragraphed  ath- 
letic feats,  perhaps,"  she  said,  a  quizzical  smile  play- 
ing round  her  lips. 

"  I  am,"  said  Franklin.  "  Though  I  doubt  whether 
this  one  will  be  as  much  advertised  as  the  others." 
He  looked  steadily  at  her  as  he  said  this  thing,  caught 
the  merest  flick  of  her  eyes  and  marked  up  to  his 
credit  the  fact  that  she  understood  his  meaning. 

For  several  seconds  these  two  eyed  each  other  de- 
liberately, like  contestants  in  a  prize  ring.  They  meas- 
ured each  other  up  calculatingly  without  any  attempt 
to  hide  the  fact.  It  was  with  unwilling  admiration 
that  Franklin  noted  the  girl's  return  to  courage.  He 
had  to  confess  to  himself  that  the  fearless  tilt  of  her 
chin  and  the  superb  grace  of  her  attitude,  which  was  as 
far  from  being  self-conscious  as  though  she  were  stand- 
ing in  the  corner  of  a  crowded  drawing-room,  pleased 
him.  It  was  to  be  a  fight,  then.  That  was  evident. 
The  spirit  of  the  huntsman  rose  in  him  as  he  realized 
this. 

"  Will  you  ring  the  bell  for  your  maid?  "  he  asked, 
making  the  first  attack,  "  or  shall  I  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Pray  don't  trouble,  there's 
plenty  of  time." 


SCANDAL  69 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you." 

"Does  that  matter?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  It's  a  free  country." 

She  sat  down  in  a  chair  which  Louis  XIV  was  popu- 
larly supposed  to  have  used.  The  yellow  light  of  a 
lamp  on  a  silver  pedestal  fell  upon  her  white  shoulders. 

Franklin  got  up.  His  blood  raced  through  his 
veins.  He  didn't  intend  to  stand  any  nonsense.  He 
was  going  to  show  her  precisely  what  it  meant  to  be 
at  the  mercy  of  an  impatient  man.  He  went  across  to 
the  door  at  the  far  end  of  the  room  and  opened  it.  It 
disclosed  a  large  and  elaborate  dressing-room  lined 
with  full-length  mirrors,  lighted  like  a  theatre,  and 
with  a  table  covered  with  implements  with  tortoise- 
shell  backs.  There  was  another  door  beyond  it.  He 
turned  the  handle  and  threw  it  open.  This  was  ap- 
parently a  workroom,  but  much  of  it  was  in  shadow. 
He  saw  a  young,  dark-haired  woman  kneeling  on  a 
chair  with  her  shoulders  rounded  over  a  magazine 
spread  out  on  a  table.  One  black  slipper  had  fallen 
off  and  lay  on  its  side  on  the  rug.  A  half -empty  box 
of  candies  was  near  to  her  elbow.  "  Mrs.  Franklin 
is  ready  for  you,"  he  said,  and  marched  back  again  to 
his  chair. 

The  maid,  obviously  French  and  with  the  charac- 
teristic Breton  good-looks,  followed  him  out,  unable 
to  disguise  her  amazement.  She  stood  waiting  for 
orders,  with  her  hands  clasped  in  front  of  her,  in  an 
attitude  of  rather  serf-like  humility, —  a  quiet,  slight, 
black  figure,  touched  with  white  at  the  collar  and  cuffs. 


70  SCANDAL 

Beatrix  crossed  her  legs  and  settled  herself  more 
comfortably  into  her  chair.  "  You  may  go  back, 
Helene,"  she  said.  "  I  will  call  you  presently." 

The  girl  bowed  and  slipped  quietly  away.  Then 
Beatrix  turned  to  Franklin,  with  a  most  tantalizing  air 
of  intimacy.  "  I'm  not  tired,"  she  said,  "  and  al- 
though you  are  very  thoughtful, —  more  so  than  most 
husbands,  which  is  perfectly  charming, —  I'm  all  for 
a  little  bright  conversation.  I  was  rather  bored  dur- 
ing dinner  and  afterwards.  Don't  you  think  you 
might  amuse  me?  You  seem  to  be  a  very  amusing 
person." 

Franklin  showed  his  teeth  in  a  silent  laugh.  "  You 
think  so?" 

"  Well,  the  indications  point  to  it." 

"  You  have  a  very  vivid  imagination,  my  child." 

"  A  man  doesn't  call  his  wife  a  child  until  he's  been 
married  to  her  at  least  ten  years,  and  then  is  quarrel- 
ing over  her  extravagances." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  Franklin,  shortly. 
"  You'll  oblige  me  by  ceasing  to  play  the  fool.  I'm 
not  in  a  mood  for  it.  I'll  do  the  maid's  job  if  you 
don't  want  that  girl  in  here." 

He  got  up  again  and  stood  over  her,  apparently  the 
very  acme  of  importunity. 

Beatrix  only  showed  her  fright  by  a  slight  disten- 
tion  of  her  nostrils.  She  burst  out  laughing. 
"  Among  your  other  achievements,  then,  you  know 
how  to  unhook  a  frock." 

"  I  do,"  said  Franklin.  "  Stand  up,  will  you, 
please  ?  " 


SCANDAL  71 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Franklin,"  she  said,  drawling  ever 
so  little,  "  I  forget  your  Christian  name, —  isn't  there 
something  just  a  trifle  Oriental  in  your  tone?  " 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Franklin. 

Beatrix  sat  back  and  put  up  a  smiling  face.  "  How 
old  are  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Does  that  matter?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  think  so.  I'm  trying  to  piece  you  to- 
gether like  one  of  those  picture  puzzles  that  children 
and  septuagenarians  play  with.  It  seems  to  me  that 
you  must  have  spent  a  certain  number  of  years  among 
the  black  races.  When  you  speak  I  seem  to  hear  the 
distant  hollow  noise  of  the  tomtom  and  the  quaint 
semi-religious  nasal  voices  of  half-clothed  savages  who 
stand  cowed  before  you.  Am  I  right,  sir?"  She 
laughed  again,  disguising  her  trepidation  with  the  ex- 
pertness  of  a  finished  actress. 

Franklin  turned  away  and  helped  himself  to  a 
cigarette.  "  You  said  that  I  could  smoke." 

"  Of  course." 

With  almost  impish  glee,  Beatrix  told  herself  that 
she  had  won  the  first  round. 

When  a  man  pauses  to  smoke  it  is  usually  a  sign 
either  that  he  is  tired  or  that  he  needs  something  to 
keep  his  nerves  under  control.  Franklin  lit  a  cigarette 
for  the  latter  purpose.  The  girl's  assumption  of  ut- 
ter coolness  made  him  want  to  take  her  roughly  by  the 
shoulders  and  shake  her  as  he  would  a  naughty  child. 
Her  air  of  enjoyment  and  mischief  made  him  all  the 
more  determined  to  see  the  thing  through  to  the  logical 


72  SCANDAL 

end  of  it.  He  could  see  that  she  imagined  she  could 
mark  time  and  possibly  wear  him  out  by  the  use  of 
her  wits,  but  that  it  did  not  occur  to  her  how  at  any 
moment  brute  force  might  come  into  the  argument. 
Ever  since  he  had  been  old  enough  to  go  to  school 
Franklin  had  resented  being  made  a  fool  of,  and  any 
boy  who  had  had  the  temerity  to  attempt  to  do  so  paid 
for  it.  He  saw  red  on  those  occasions  and  could  re- 
member each  one  of  them  in  every  detail.  He  began  to 
see  red  now.  Not  only  had  this  young,  wilful,  uncon- 
trolled child  of  wealth  already  made  a  most  colossal 
fool  of  him,  but  there  she  was,  calmer  than  he  had 
ever  seen  her,  treating  him  as  though  he  were  a  green 
and  callow  youth,  playing  with  him  in  order  to  break 
the  monotony  of  a  dull  evening.  His  temper  grew 
hotter. 

"  Listen !  "  he  said.  "  It  doesn't  appear  to  be  any 
use  to  treat  you  as  an  ordinary  girl." 

"Have  you  only  just  come  to  that  conclusion?" 

"  I  have  broken  in  many  thoroughbreds  in  my  time, 
and  unless  you  conform  pretty  quickly  to  the  rules  of 
the  game  that  you  have  forced  me  to  play,  I  shall  have 
to  use  horse-breaking  methods  with  you.  Do  you 
want  me  to  put  it  plainer  than  that?  " 

"  Before  we  go  any  further,"  said  Beatrix,  showing 
a  most  tantalizing  flash  of  white  teeth,  "  don't  you 
think  you  ought  to  tell  me  what  your  Christian  name 
is  ?  I  can't  keep  on  saying  *  My  dear  Mr.  Franklin/ 
under  these  unconventional  circumstances.  It's  so 
formal."  She  knew  well  enough,  and  he  knew  it. 

"  Get  up !  "  said  Franklin,  thickly,  keeping  his  hands 


SCANDAL  75 

off  her  with  the  greatest  difficulty.  "  Either  go  to 
your  maid,  or  call  her  in.  I'm  through." 

With  a  little  bow,  Beatrix  rose.  It  was  perfectly 
evident  to  her  that  Franklin  was  rapidly  becoming  dan- 
gerous and  that  at  any  moment  he  might  let  himself 
go.  What  could  she  do?  According  to  her  family, 
this  man  was  her  husband  and,  as  such,  had  the  right 
to  be  in  her  room.  To  scream  would  only  make  her 
look  ridiculous,  unless  she  intended  to  give  herself 
away,  and  this  she  was  not  prepared  to  do  under  any 
circumstances.  She  might  be  able  to  fence  with 
Franklin  a  little  longer  and,  as  a  last  resource,  to  pur- 
sue the  ordinary  tactics  of  a  woman  cornered  and 
throw  herself  on  his  mercy,  with  tears.  Humiliation, 
—  that  was  the  thing  she  hated  most.  And  as  she 
faced  Franklin  again,  with  these  things  running  rap- 
idly through  her  mind,  she  felt  once  more  a  renewed 
sense  of  admiration  for  his  grim  determination  to 
punish.  She  owned  to  herself  with  perfect  frankness 
that  this  odd  and  neurotic  fight  was  between  the  two 
most  spoiled  children  of  her  country.  The  sense  of 
humor  which  was  her  saving  grace  gave  her  the  power 
to  see  it  in  the  light  of  something  which  was  not  with- 
out value  and  meaning  in  her  life.  If  she  had  actually 
to  fight  like  a  wild-cat,  she  intended  that  the  morning 
should  find  her  as  she  was  at  that  moment. 

"  Will  you  call  Helene,  then  ?  "  she  said. 

Franklin  went  across  the  room  to  the  door  of  the 
maid's  cubby-hole  and  rapped. 

Beatrix,  seized  with  a  new  idea,  followed  Franklin 
and  with  a  touch  of  masterly  audacity  stood  at  his  side 


74  SCANDAL 

with  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Don't  you  think  we 
make  a  charming  picture  of  connubial  felicity?  " 

"My  God!"  said  Franklin. 

The  maid  came  out,  and  as  she  did  so,  Beatrix  made 
a  dart  into  her  room.  She  had  suddenly  remembered 
that  she  could  escape  through  it  into  the  main  part  of 
the  house,  and  that  if  she  could  get  away  and  find 
shelter  in  the  arms  of  her  fluttering  companion  she 
would  be  safe  for  that  night  at  any  rate. 

But  Franklin  was  too  quick  for  her.  He  caught  her 
by  the  arm  just  as  she  was  about  to  win  the  first 
round. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  don't,"  he  said,  and  picked  her  up  in 
his  arms,  carried  her  back  into  the  bedroom  and 
dumped  her  down  on  a  divan  as  though  she  were  a 
bundle  of  feathers. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  maid.  "  Just  lock  your  door 
and  bring  me  the  key."  And  when  in  a  moment  it 
was  timidly  handed  to  him,  he  added,  sharply :  "  Now 
get  Mrs.  Franklin  ready  for  the  night." 

Beatrix  stopped  the  girl  as  she  padded  softly  over  to 
the  dressing-room.  "  Wait  a  minute,  Helene,"  she 
said,  and  turned  towards'Franklin.  "  This  is  the  hour 
when  I  drink  a  glass  of  hot  milk,  oh,  my  lord  and  mas- 
ter !  Have  I  your  gracious  permission  to  continue  the 
habit  to-night?  If  so,  will  you  permit  my  hand- 
maiden to  go  below  and  get  it  for  me  ?  " 

Franklin  held  out  the  key.  Helene  took  it,  and  he 
turned  on  his  heel. 

With  an  eel-like  movement  Beatrix  slipped  from  the 
divan,  made  a  dart  at  the  French  girl  and  in  a  quick; 


, 


Don't  you  think  we  make  a  charming  picture  of  con- 
nubial felicity?  "     Page  74. 


SCANDAL  75 

whisper  told  her  to  go  and  fetch  Mrs.  Lester  Keene 
at  once.  Whereupon,  under  the  firm  belief  that  this 
new  manoeuvre  made  her  top-dog,  all  her  audacity  and 
self-assurance  returned.  With  Brownie  there  to  pro- 
tect her  she  could  really  begin  to  enjoy  herself  and 
make  Franklin  wish,  not  only  that  he  had  never  en- 
tered her  room,  but  that  he  had  never  been  born.  She 
could  play  with  him  as  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse.  She 
could  make  him  sting  and  smart  under  her  badinage. 
She  could  make  him  see  that  he  had  placed  himself  in 
a  position  in  which  he  would  look  the  most  egregious 
idiot,  and  eventually  rout  him  from  the  scene  with 
her  laughter  ringing  in  his  ears.  "  It  will  take  a  bet- 
ter man  than  Mr.  Pelham  Franklin,"  she  told  herself, 
"  to  break  me  in." 

She  began  her  new  tactics  at  once.  She  strolled 
over  to  where  Franklin  was  standing  and  sat  on  the 
arm  of  a  chair.  Her  color  had  come  back  and  her 
eyes  were  sparkling.  She  looked  like  one  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds'  pictures  of  Lady  Hamilton  come  to 
life.  "  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  what's  your  opinion  of 
York?  We  may  as  well  have  a  little  bright  conver- 
sation while  Helene  has  gone  on  her  domestic  errand, 
don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

Franklin  looked  at  the  girl  with  a  sort  of  analytical 
examination.  He  admitted  her  courage  and  her 
spirit.  He  admitted  her  overwhelming  beauty  and  her 
inherited  assurance.  But  he  began  to  wonder 
whether, —  in  spite  of  the  little  piteous  appeal  which 
had  come  involuntarily  from  her  lips  when  she  found 
herself  alone  with  him, —  there  was  not  a  streak  of 


76  SCANDAL 

callousness  in  her  nature  which  put  her  \vell  up  among 
some  of  the  almost  degenerate  young  women  of  her 
class. 

"  I  only  know  York  by  sight,"  he  said.  "  That  was 
enough." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  take  things  too  seriously  ? 
His  fur  coat,  Italian  moustache  and  flamboyant  tie 
do  put  one  off,  of  course,  but  he's  one  of  the  comics 
of  the  city  and,  as  such,  well  worth  knowing.  I  won- 
der you  haven't  dropped  in  to  see  him  sometimes. 
He's  conveniently  near  to  you, —  luckily  for  me." 
She  gave  a  low  laugh  as  she  added  the  last  words. 

Franklin  stood  with  his  back  against  one  of  the 
carved  bed-posts,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  In 
various  parts  of  the  world  he  had  met  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  women,  from  the  red-cheeked  coquettish 
daughters  of  mountaineers  to  the  glum  squaws  of 
dilapidated  Indian  chiefs.  Also  he  had  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  rather  cold  and  quizzical  society  women 
of  England,  the  great  ladies  of  Paris  who  have  made 
immobility  a  fine  art,  the  notorious  cocottes  of  all  na- 
tionalities and  many  of  those  unconsciously  pathetic 
but  perfectly  happy  little  women  who,  as  artists'  mod- 
els of  the  Latin  quarter,  live  with  exquisite  though 
temporary  morality  in  an  atmosphere  in  which  mor- 
als are  as  scarce  as  carpets  and  as  little  needed.  His 
acquaintanceship  with  all  these  various  types  had  been 
casual,  but  he  had  been  interested  enough  in  them  to 
study  their  characteristics,  their  mannerisms  and  their 
tricks.  But  here,  in  Beatrix  Vanderdyke,  was  a  girl 
who  didn't  come  under  any  of  the  six  types  of  women. 


SCANDAL  77 

She  didn't  conform  in  any  one  way  either  to  his  pre- 
conceived ideas  of  herself.  Even  his  brutality  hadn't 
disturbed  her.  She  was  still  as  unruffled  as  a  white 
fan-tailed  pigeon.  Her  eyes  still  gleamed  with  mock- 
ing laughter  and  there  was  not  one  single  sign  of 
fear,  or  even  of  nervousness,  in  her  easiness  and  grace. 
His  interest  in  her  grew  with  every  moment  of  de- 
lay and  her  desirability  became  more  and  more  ob- 
vious with  every  moment  that  passed.  He  might 
have  been  inclined  to  let  her  off  had  she  shown  any 
weakness.  His  anger  might  have  grown  cold  had  she 
let  him  see  anything  of  outraged  maidenly  modesty. 
But  her  present  attitude  egged  him  on,  added  fuel  to 
his  fire  and  doubled  his  desire  to  break  her  will. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  to-morrow  and  the 
day  after  ?  "  she  asked,  as  though  she  had  been  mar- 
ried to  him  for  some  time  and  wanted  to  make  her 
plans. 

The  question  startled  Franklin.  "  Sufficient  for 
the  night,"  he  said. 

Beatrix  gave  one  of  the  tantalizing  little  bows 
which  were  so  annoying  to  her  mother.  "  I  see ! 
Probably  I  shall  take  my  estimable,  but  rather  irritat- 
ing companion  to  Europe  by  the  first  possible  boat. 
As  Mrs.  Franklin,  I  shall  be  doubly  welcomed  in  Eng- 
lish society.  The  combined  and  much-paragraphed 
wealth  of  our  two  families  will  make  me  a  very  ro- 
mantic figure  even  in  England,  where  blood  is  wrongly 
supposed  to  weigh  more  than  money-bags.  It  will 
be  very  refreshing  to  be  a  free  agent  at  last.  I  won- 
der what  sort  of  thrill  you'll  get  when  you  see  my 


78  SCANDAL 

face  in  the  Sketch  and  Tatler  among  actresses  and 
cabinet  ministers'  wives  and  trans-Atlantic  duchesses! 
By  this  time,  of  course,  the  epoch-making  news  of  our 
alliance, —  as  Aunt  Honoria  calls  it, —  will  have  been 
flashed  to  the  far  ends  of  the  earth.  What'll  you  do 
if  any  legal  person  asks  to  see  our  marriage  lines?" 

The  sheer  impertinence  of  this  young  woman  left 
him  wordless,  until,  followed  by  the  French  maid, 
Mrs.  Lester  Keene, —  hastily  dressed  in  a  discreet 
Jaeger  dressing-gown, —  fluttered  tremulously  in,  hur- 
ried over  to  the  girl  who  was  popularly  supposed  to 
be  in  her  charge,  and  put  her  arms  dramatically  around 
her  shoulders.  Then  he  cursed  ripely  beneath  his 
breath. 

Mrs.  Lester  Keene  was  one  of  those  numerous 
women  whose  sense  of  the  romantic,  whose  belief  in 
the  lowness  of  human  nature  and  whose  relish  for 
melodrama  were  the  result  of  having  lived  a  placid, 
uneventful,  incompetent  and  wholly  protected  life. 
Like  a  boy  who  is  a  constant  attendant  at  the  movies 
and  carries  home  with  him  a  keen  desire  to  murder 
his  baby  brother  and  brain  his  little  friends  with  his 
father's  wood-chopper,  Amelia  Keene  had  derived  a 
distorted  view  of  the  life  and  people  beyond  her  hori- 
zon from  an  absolutely  quenchless  thirst  for  sensa- 
tional novels,  which  she  drank  in,  firmly  believing  that 
they  gave  true  pictures  of  men,  women  and  events. 

To  Beatrix,  who  knew  this  kindly,  ineffectual,  ordi- 
nary little  woman  through  and  through,  it  was  funny 
to  see  the  manner  in  which  she  "  believed  the  worst," 
• — to  use  one  of  her  own  favorite  phrases, —  of  what 


SCANDAL  79 

she  saw  from  a  first  quick  glance.  The  lofty,  mu- 
seum-like chamber  so  little  suggested  the  bedroom  of 
a  young  girl  or  of  any  woman  except  a  painted  harri- 
dan who  was  accustomed  to  being  surrounded,  even 
in  her  most  intimate  moments  with  grotesque  acquaint- 
ances, that  the  presence  of  Franklin  there  might  have 
meant  nothing.  It  was  conceivable  that  he  and  Bea- 
trix, who  had  the  same  royal  way  of  disdaining  the 
laws  of  convention  if  it  suited  their  purpose  to  do 
so,  might  have  arranged  to  meet  there  in  order  to  be 
out  of  the  family  eye  and  to  discuss  the  chaos  in 
which  they  both  stood.  It  was  as  unromantic  a  meet- 
ing place  as  the  great  echoing  hall  of  the  Grand  Cen- 
tral Station  or  the  foyer  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House.  But  Amelia  Keene,  whose  excitement  since 
her  few  minutes'  conversation  with  Beatrix  before 
dinner  had  churned  her  into  a  condition  almost  ap- 
proaching apoplexy,  seized  with  instant  avidity  at 
the  chance  of  adding  drama  to  the  scene  in  which 
she  had  been  called  upon  to  take  a  part. 

"Oh,  my  darling!  My  darling!"  she  cried. 
"Thank  God  you  sent  for  me!  Am  I  in  time?" 

This  was  altogether  too  much  for  Beatrix.  She 
threw  one  look  at  her  unruffled  reflection  in  the  mirror 
and  another  at  Franklin,  the  very  epitome  of  self- 
control,  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  a 
burst  of  laughter  which  left  her  utterly  weak.  Even 
Franklin,  who  was  in  no  mood  for  hilarity,  smiled 
at  the  obvious  inanity  of  the  remark. 

Mrs.  Lester  Keene  turned  from  one  to  the  other 
with  an  air  of  comical  indignation.  She  saw  noth- 


8o  SCANDAL 

ing  to  laugh  at.  If  there  had  been  any  fun  in  all 
this,  why  had  she  been  sent  for?  Her  age  and  her 
position  in  that  house  gave  her  the  right  to  protect 
her  untamable  charge.  The  mere  fact,  if  such  a  fact 
could  be  mere,  that  a  man  was  in  the  bedroom  of  this 
young  girl  was  in  itself  a  frightful  shock  to  all  her 
inherited  ideas  of  propriety.  To  her,  novel-fed  as  she 
was,  Franklin  could  not  be  anything  but  a  desperate 
character,  a  menace  to  virtue,  a  man  of  the  world. 
He  and  Beatrix  might  look  at  it  from  the  callous  mod- 
ern angle,  but  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
was  called  upon  to  perform  a  great  rescue  and  to 
stand  as  the  representative  of  Chastity  and  Moral 
Goodness, —  and  like  all  the  women  of  her  type  she 
consciously  dignified  these  terms  with  capital  letters. 
The  only  thing  that  she  regretted  was  that  she  had 
done  her  hair  for  the  night  and  had  not  given  herself 
time  to  touch  her  face  with  a  powder-puff. 

As  soon  as  Beatrix  had  recovered  herself  and  was 
able  to  speak  again,  she  unlaced  herself  from  Mrs. 
Keene's  plump,  well-meaning  arms  and  pushed  her 
gently  to  the  nearest  chair.  "  Pull  yourself  together, 
Brownie  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  hope  I  sha'n't  have  to 
keep  you  out  of  bed  longer  than  a  few  minutes.  I 
sent  for  you  because  you  had  very  little  opportunity 
of  speaking  to  Mr.  Franklin  to-day  and  he's  in  a  par- 
ticularly brilliant  mood.  As  you  know,  I  like  you 
to  share  my  pleasures,  Brownie,  dear."  She  threw 
a  look  of  triumph  at  Franklin,  which  said  as  plainly 
as  spoken  words,  "  My  game,  my  friend ! " 

Franklin  caught  her  meaning.     He  shot  out  a  laugh 


SCANDAL  81 

and  answered  her  aloud.  "  Don't  you  believe  it.  I 
have  all  night  at  my  disposal."  And  after  trying 
several  chairs  he  sat  down  in  one  that  had  arms 
and  a  slanting  back,  made  himself  completely  comfor- 
table and  eyed  the  newcomer  with  such  interest  that 
she  bristled  beneath  his  gaze. 

Summing  up  the  state  of  the  game, —  it  was  still 
in  this  way  that  she  regarded  this  amazing  episode 
inconceivable  except  when  conducted  by  these  two 
products  of  a  social  system  peculiar  to  America, — 
Beatrix  didn't  like  the  look  of  things.  It  had  seemed 
to  her  that  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Keene  would  reduce 
the  position  to  one  of  such  absurdity  that  Franklin 
would  be  only  too  glad  to  take  himself  off  with  as 
much  dignity  as  he  could  muster  up.  His  tenacity 
took  her  breath  away.  What  sort  of  a  man  was 
this  who  intended  to  stick  to  his  point  even  in  the 
face  of  a  witness? 

Not  having  been  endowed  with  as  much  humor 
as  would  slip  through  a  sugar-sifter,  Mrs.  Lester 
Keene  had  the  faculty  of  jumping  in  where  angels 
igar  to  tread.  Her  love  and  admiration  for  Beatrix 
were  the  biggest  things  in  her  life, —  far  bigger  than 
her  nebulous  marriage  and  her  occasional  social  tri- 
umphs in  suburban  London.  It  gave  her  a  sort  of 
false  courage  and  carried  her  over  all  conventional 
bunkers  which  her  provincial  up-bringing  had  erected 
between  herself  and  the  truth.  There  was  therefore 
a  touch  of  heroism  in  the  way  in  which  she  turned 
upon  Franklin.  "How  long  have  you  been  here?" 
she  demanded. 


82  SCANDAL 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  said  Franklin. 

"  Time  flies  when  one  is  interested,"  said  Beatrix, 
with  a  charming  smile. 

"  What  right  have  you  to  be  here  at  all?  " 

"  Ask  my  wife,"  said  Franklin,  drily. 

"  She  isn't  your  wife,  and  you  know  it." 

"  I  am  the  only  man  who  does,"  said  Franklin. 

"  And  for  that  reason  your  behavior  is  inexcusable 
and  unforgivable.  It  is  not  that  of  a  gentleman.  I 
am  astounded  that  a  man  who  bears  such  a  name  as 
yours  could  descend  to  these  depths." 

She  had  never  spoken  to  anyone  like  this  before, 
not  even  to  the  little  servant  who,  far  away  in  the 
past,  had  brushed  her  hair  and  mislaid  her  hair-pins. 
She  was  surprised  at  herself.  She  felt,  with  a  thrill 
of  curious  excitement,  that  she  was  rising  bravely  to 
a  great  occasion.  Franklin  remained  patient.  He 
felt  sorry  for  this  obviously  weak  woman  who  was 
notoriously  no  more  able  to  cope  with  Beatrix  than 
could  a  canvas  screen  with  a  fifty-mile  gale.  She  was 
doing  her  best  and  he  respected  her.  It  was  not  so 
much  her  fault  as  her  misfortune  that  the  result  was 
farcical.  He  caught  a  look  of  amusement  in  the  eyes 
of  his  antagonist,  and  waiving  all  feeling  of  enmity 
in  a  moment  of  sympathy,  smiled  back  at  her.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  nothing,  and  so  Mrs. 
Keene,  now  oiled  up,  started  off  again. 

"  It  doesn't  require  any  imagination  to  know  what 
your  intentions  are,"  she  said,  her  choice  of  words  be- 
coming more  and  more  high-flown  and  her  rather 
fat  chin  quivering  under  her  emotion.  "  You  seek 


SCANDAL  83 

to  take  advantage  of  a  young  girl  who  has  placed 
herself  in  a  most  dangerous  position.  I  have  no 
words  in  which  to  say  how  despicable  — "  Her  voice 
broke. 

Beatrix  patted  her  shoulder.  "  There,  there, 
Brownie  dear!  There,  there!  Don't  take  it  so  much 
to  heart.  The  last  half-an-hour  has  been  full  of 
fun  and  I've  enjoyed  it  all  enormously,  and  presently 
when  Mr.  Franklin  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  after 
all  this  is  the  twentieth  century,  he'll  recover  his 
chivalry  and  find  some  other  way  in  which  to  pay 
me  out." 

"  Then  all  I've  got  to  say  is  this,"  said  Mrs.  Lester 
Keene :  "  the  sooner  he  comes  to  that  conclusion 
the  better.  You,  my  dear,  ought  to  be  in  bed  and 
asleep.  And  after  my  recent  attack  of  lumbago,  I 
don't  think  anyone  has  the  right  to  keep  me  out  of 
bed  as  late  as  this." 

Franklin  got  up  and  held  out  his  right  arm.  "  I'm 
so  sorry.  Allow  me  to  escort  you  to  the  door,"  he 
said. 

"  And  you  intend  to  go  to  your  own  room  ?  " 

Beatrix  held  her  breath.  On  the  answer  to  that 
question  everything  that  she  could  see  in  the  future  de- 
pended. 

"  This  is  my  room,"  said  Franklin.  And  when  the 
little  lady  drew  back  he  went  behind  her  chair,  put 
his  hands  gently  under  her  elbows,  lifted  her  up  and 
ran  her,  a  perfect  mass  of  impotent  protest,  to  and 
through  the  door  of  the  maid's  room,  which  he  locked. 
He  knew,  that  Mrs.  Keene  dared  not  make  a  fuss, 


84  SCANDAL 

and  returned  to  face  Beatrix  once  more,  with  a  curi- 
ous smile.     "  All  square  at  the  turn,"  he  said. 

"  Well  played,   sir,"   replied   Beatrix,   generously. 

A  lugubrious  clock  that  was  somewhere  in  that 
unsuitable  room  struck  twelve.  Through  the  open 
windows  came  the  raucous  enthusiasm  of  the  frogs  on 
a  close-by  pond.  Their  imitation  of  the  mechanical 
noises  made  by  a  factory  in  full  blast  was  more  exact 
than  usual.  A  local  cock  flung  out  his  throaty  chal- 
lenge to  other  barn-yard  sheiks  and  was  answered 
from  near  and  far.  A  full  moon  in  a  sky  that  was 
very  mosaic  of  stars  laid  a  magic  light  upon  the  earth 
and  water. 

Beatrix  heaved  a  little  sigh.  She  was  beginning 
to  feel  tired.  Excitement  was  burning  low,  and  Na- 
ture, whom  she  was  in  the  habit  of  ignoring  with 
characteristic  imperiousness,  demanded  sleep.  Frank- 
lin was  not  to  be  beaten  by  tricks,  it  seemed,  or  turned 
off  by  sarcasm.  She  must  change  her  tactics  and  see 
how  honesty  would  work. 

"  You'll  go  now,  won't  you  ?  "  she  said  quietly,  with 
an  offer  of  friendship  that  was  usually  irresistible. 

Franklin  shook  his  head  and  stood  firm. 

"  No  ?  Oh,  I  think  so.  There  isn't  any  need  to 
carry  your  strong  man  performance  any  farther. 
You've  quite  convinced  me  that  education  and  all  the 
advantages  of  civilization  mean  nothing  to  me.  I'll 
take  it  for  granted  that  they  mean  just  as  little  to 
you.  In  a  word,  I'll  own  myself  punished  and  give 
you  the  game.  Will  that  do?  " 


SCANDAL  85 

"  No,"  said  Franklin.     "  That's  not  good  enough." 

Beatrix  stood  thoughtfully  in  front  of  him,  with 
her  hands  behind  her  back,  drooping  a  little  like  a 
flower  in  the  evening.  Her  new  and  utter  naturalness 
made  her  seem  startlingly  young  and  immature  and 
different.  Franklin  hardly  recognized  in  this  Beatrix 
the  brilliant,  sparkling,  insolent,  triumphant  creature 
who  had  turned  the  tables  on  her  family  and  claimed 
his  help  as  a  sportsman  without  one  iota  of  considera- 
tion for  him  or  the  future.  But  he  refused  to  weaken. 
He  realized  that  if  he  allowed  himself  to  drift  even 
into  the  approach  of  sympathy  she  would  twist  him 
round  her  little  finger.  She  deserved  no  mercy.  He 
would  give  her  none.  She  had  had  the  temerity  to 
place  him  high  up  among  the  world's  fools  and  she 
must  pay  the  full  price  for  the  privilege. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  know,"  she  said,  "  how  much 
it  costs  me  to  retire  from  any  sort  of  contest  until 
the  result  is  hopelessly  against  me.  I've  only  done 
it  once  before,  and  that  was  in  a  tennis  tournament 
at  Palm  Beach  last  winter,  when  I  went  on  playing, 
with  a  sprained  ankle,  and  fainted.  I  don't  intend 
to  faint  now,  but  I'm  very,  very  tired.  .Won't  you 
let  me  give  up  ?  " 

Franklin  shook  his  head  again.  "  This  is  not  any- 
thing like  the  little  games  that  you  kill  time  with,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  not  Sutherland  York,  nor  am  I  one  of 
the  green  youths  who  help  you  to  get  through  monoton- 
ous days.  I  have  been  just  as  spoiled  as  you  have 
and  this  can't  end  until  my  vanity  has  been  healed. 
You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do." 


86  SCANDAL 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  frankly,  "  I  understand.  If  I 
stood  in  your  shoes  I  should  feel  as  you  do  and  be 
just  as  brutal  in  my  desire  for  revenge.  But  put  your- 
self in  mine  for  a  minute.  You  can  if  you  will.  You 
have  imagination.  The  mere  fact  that  you've  been  in 
my  room  for  an  hour  and  made  me  undergo  the  worst 
sort  of  humiliation  before  my  maid  and  my  companion 
ought  to  be  sufficient  to  heal  any  ordinary  type  of 
vanity,  however  severe  the  wound.  Come,  now.  I 
don't  ask  you  to  be  fair.  I  don't  deserve  that.  But 
be  big  and  get  off  that  awfully  high  horse.  What 
d'you  say  ?  Shall  I  cry  quits  ?  "  She  held  out  her 
hand  with  the  charming  smile  which  had  never  failed 
since  the  time  when  she  was  the  little  queen  of  her  big 
nursery. 

Franklin  compelled  himself  to  ignore  it.  "  No,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  here  to  make  you  feel  the  spurs  for  the 
first  time  in  your  life,  and  I  shall  stay." 

In  a  flash  Beatrix  changed  back  to  the  personality 
behind  which  she  hid  her  best  and  undiscovered  self. 
She  threw  back  her  head  and  squared  her  shoulders 
and  brought  her  exquisite  slim  young  body  into  an 
attitude  of  audacious  challenge  and  ran  her  eyes  over 
Franklin  with  an  expression  in  which  there  was  con- 
tempt and  amusement. 

"  Then  you  may  make  up  your  mind  to  a  long  and 
arduous  job,"  she  said.  "  It'll  take  a  better  man  than 
you  to  break  me  in." 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  he  said. 

She  burst  into  a  derisive  laugh.  Her  blood  was  up. 
This  man  had  frightened  her,  amused  her,  interested 


SCANDAL  87 

her.  He  had  won  her  admiration,  even  a  little  of 
her  sympathy.  Now  he  bored  her.  He  had  stayed 
too  long,  harped  on  one  subject  too  steadily.  She 
might  consent  to  play  at  something  else,  but  this  game 
was  threadbare.  She  refused  to  entertain  the  possi- 
bility of  his  attempting  to  carry  out  his  threat  beyond 
taking  possession  of  her  room,  which,  in  itself,  was 
impertinent  enough. 

"  What  precisely  do  you  imagine  that  you  can  do?  " 
she  asked,  with  the  very  essence  of  scorn. 

Franklin's  patience  had  almost  run  out,  too.  "  I 
don't  imagine  that  I  can  do  anything.  I  know  exactly 
what  I'm  going  to  do." 

"Is  that  so?    Do  tell  me." 

"Conform  in  detail  to  the  right  you've  given  me," 
he  said,  "  without  any  further  argument." 

"  Beginning  how,  pray  ?  " 

"  By  tearing  that  frock  off  your  back,  unless  you 
have  your  maid  in  right  away." 

"  You  wouldn't  dare ! "  she  said,  scoffing  at  him. 

That  was  the  worst  word  she  could  have  chosen. 
To  dare  Franklin  to  do  a  thing  was  to  guarantee  that 
it  was  done.  With  the  blood  in  his  head  he  laid  in- 
stant hands  on  her  and  ripped  the  chiffon  from  one 
soft  white  shoulder. 

There  was  an  inarticulate  cry,  a  brief,  breathless 
struggle,  and  the  next  instant  he  received  a  blow  on 
the  face  that  made  him  see  stars. 

'  You  little  tyrant ! "  he  said,  with  a  short  laugh. 
"That's  your  spirit,  is  it?" 

He  made  for  her  again,  angrier  than  he  had  ever 


88  SCANDAL 

been  in  his  life.  But  she  darted  away  like  a  beautiful 
fish,  and  with  her  round  shoulder  gleaming  in  the 
moonlight  stood  close  to  an  open  window,  her  breasts 
rising  and  falling,  her  nostrils  distended,  her  eyes 
like  two  great  stars,  her  face  as  white  as  the  feath- 
ers of  a  white  dove. 

"  Touch  me  again  and  I'll  jump  out  of  this  win- 
dow ! " 

"  I  don't  believe  you,"  he  said,  but  remained  stand- 
ing. 

"I  swear  to  God  I  will!" 

He  knew  that  she  meant  it.  "  You'd  break  every 
bone  in  your  body,"  he  said. 

"  That  would  be  better  than  having  your  hands  on 
me  again." 

He  made  a  spring  and  caught  her  by  the  wrists. 
"Now  jump!" 

"  Oh,  very  clever,"  she  said,  with  superb  sarcasm. 
"  You've  evidently  made  a  hobby  of  fighting  with 
women." 

That  stung  Franklin.  "  I  don't  call  you  a  woman," 
he  blurted  out.  "  There's  been  nothing  of  the  woman 
in  you  since  the  day  you  knew  enough  words  to  order 
one  of  your  nurses  about.  You're  a  hybrid,  the  pro- 
duction of  a  mixture  of  two  species, —  labor  and 
wealth.  The  labor  in  you,  inherited  from  the  man 
who  made  your  first  millions,  is  tainted  with  re- 
volt, the  wealth  with  the  damned  despotism  that  cre- 
ates it.  You're  no  more  a  woman  than  this  barrack 
is  a  home,  or  this  absurd  place  a  bedroom.  You're  a 
grotesque  who  has  been  brought  up  in  a  nightmare. 


SCANDAL  89 

You  walk  on  a  world  that  is  too  small  for  your  feet. 
You're  out  of  drawing  like  a  woman  in  a  fashion- 
plate.  You're  a  sort  of  female  Gulliver  on  an  earth 
peopled  with  pigmies.  You  almost  believe  that  you're 
Almighty  and  that  when  you  raise  your  ringer  life  must 
be  reset  like  a  chess-board.  And  you're  perfectly 
right.  It  can  and  is  and  will  be  so  long  as  money 
counts.  I  know  it  and  do  it,  for  you  and  I  hold  a 
piece  each  of  the  same  wand.  But  you're  up  against 
me  now,  and  you've  used  me  as  you  might  have  used 
a  trained  servant,  or  an  eager  parasite,  ready  and 
willing  to  lick  the  blacking  off  your  boots  for  the 
sake  of  what  may  fall  unnoticed  from  your  purse,  and, 
by  God,  you're  not  going  to  get  away  with  it." 

He  controlled  her  across  to  the  door  of  the  maid's 
room  and  pushed  it  open  with  his  foot.  "  Come  out," 
he  said,  "  and  get  Mrs.  Franklin  ready  for  the  night." 
Then  he  marched  Beatrix  to  and  into  the  dressing- 
room,  followed  by  Helene.  Reflected  in  the  mirrors 
there  were  not  three,  but  thirty  people.  "  I'll  give 
you  fifteen  minutes,"  he  continued,  "  and  for  the 
sake  of  all  concerned  don't  be  longer.  Is  that 
agreed?  " 

Beatrix  met  his  eyes.  Her  spirit  was  unbroken, 
her  chin  at  the  same  tilt,  her  attitude  not  one  whit 
less  contemptuously  assured,  but  he  saw  in  the  slight 
inclination  of  her  golden  head  the  acknowledgment 
that  he  held  all  the  cards. 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  room,  went  over 
to  an  open  window  and  drew  in  long  breaths  of  air. 

He  and  she,  children  of  the  same  nightmare,  as  he 


90  SCANDAL 

had  called  it,  had  both  used  the  word  vanity  about 
the  thing  which  impelled  him  to  punish.  But  as  he 
looked  out  into  the  sane  night,  magic  only  from  the 
moon's  touch,  it  came  to  him  that  to  dismiss  it  as 
vanity  was  to  slur  over  the  true  meaning  of  that  before 
which  he  was  urged.  It  was  the  labor  in  him,  the 
revolt  against  the  despotism  of  wealth  that  had  come 
back  again  in  his  fight  with  his  fellow-hybrid,  and 
once  more  labor  was  top-dog.  How  would  he  use  his 
power  ? 

For  fifteen  minutes  he  stood  there  with  his  heart 
thumping,  his  hands  hot,  the  exhilaration  of  success 
running  through  his  blood  like  alcohol.  And  then,  to 
the  second,  came  the  sweet  diaphanous  figure,  which, 
with  the  dignity  of  a  brave  but  conquered  enemy, 
crossed  to  the  foolish  bed. 

Franklin  watched  her  go,  her  gleaming  hair  all 
about  her  like  a  bridal  veil,  her  head  held  high,  her 
lovely  face  untouched  by  fear.  He  watched  her 
pause  while  the  maid  opened  up  the  bed,  and  then 
slip  in.  He  called  the  French  girl,  gave  her  the  key 
to  her  door  and  waited  until  she  had  gone.  Then  he 
walked  to  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  stood  there  silently 
until  Beatrix  raised  her  eyes. 

"If  you  and  I,"  he  said,  with  extreme  distinctness, 
"  were  the  only  two  living  people  on  a  desert  island 
and  there  was  not  the  faintest  hope  of  our  ever  being 
taken  back  to  the  world,  I  would  build  you  a  hut 
at  the  farthest  end  of  it  and  treat  you  as  a  man." 

He  wheeled  round,  unlocked  the  door,  went  out  into 
the  passage  and  away. 


SCANDAL  91 

Only  by  having  seen  the  expression  on  Beatrix's 
face  after  he  had  gone  would  he  have  known  how  tre- 
mendously well  he  had  revenged  himself. 


VIII 

FRANKLIN'S  bare  statement  to  Malcolm  Eraser  that 
he  was  going  to  the  Vanderdyke  pastoral  party  merely 
to  meet  Ida  Larpent  left  his  friend  interested  and  spec- 
ulative. The  lady's  name  was  as  familiar  to  Fraser 
as  to  the  other  men  who  dined  at  houses  a  little  to 
the  east  and  rather  less  than  that  to  the  west  of  Fifth 
Avenue.  The  lady's  arresting  face  had  often  stirred 
his  dormant  sense  of  psychology,  but  he  never  had  had 
the  opportunity  of  saying  more  than  "  How  do  you 
do?  "  or  "  Good-bye  "  to  her.  He  so  obviously  didn't 
count  in  the  scheme  of  things  as  they  appealed  to  Mrs. 
Larpent. 

According  to  the  Social  Register,  however,  Mrs. 
Larpent  lived  in  East  Fifty-sixth  Street  and  was  the 
widow  of  Captain  Claude  Elcho  Larpent  of  the  2ist 
Lancers,  a  nephew  of  Field  Marshal  Viscount  Ris- 
borough.  That  was  all.  If  this  precious  volume, 
which  is  the  vade-mecum  of  so  many  people  who  mur- 
mur the  word  society  with  a  hiss  that  can  be  heard 
from  one  end  of  the  town  to  the  other,  had  attempted 
to  do  justice  to  the  beautiful  Ida,  at  least  one-half  of 
the  volume  would  have  been  devoted  to  the  story  of 
her  antecedents  and  career.  Born  at  Paterson,  New 
Jersey,  the  only  daughter  of  a  pushing  and  energetic 
little  chemist  named  McKenna,  who  had  married  in  a 


SCANDAL  93 

moment  of  the  wildest  kind  of  romance  a  little,  slight, 
white-faced  Russian  girl  who  had  left  her  country 
among  a  batch  of  unsavory  emigrants  and  found  em- 
ployment in  a  button  factory,  Ida, —  who  can  tell  why  ? 
• —  was  marked  out  from  her  tiniest  years  for  the  old- 
est profession  in  the  world.  One  would  have  thought, 
to  look  at  her  parents, —  the  father  a  pugnacious,  in- 
dustrious, thrifty,  red-headed  Scotch- American,  the 
mother  a  wistful,  grateful,  self-effacing  little  woman 
who,  if  there  were  any  justice  in  this  world,  would 
several  times  have  received  the  distinguished  service 
order  for  her  many  acts  of  unnoticed  heroism, —  she 
would  have  been  a  bright,  brave,  practical  and  perhaps 
even  pretty  little  girl.  Instead  of  which,  to  everyone's 
astonishment  and  to  the  utter  confusion  of  the  chemist 
and  his  wife,  Ida  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  child 
of  the  aristocracy.  She  was  thoroughbred  from  head 
to  foot,  perfectly  made,  with  a  small  oval  face  and 
large  wide-apart  eyes,  tiny  wrists  and  ankles  and  black 
hair  as  fine  as  silk.  The  paradox  of  her  having  been 
born  in  the  small  common-place  quarters  above  a  sec- 
ond-rate store,  amidst  all  the  untidiness  of  a  place  in 
which  the  mother  did  her  own  housework,  was  not  lost 
on  the  parents.  They  were  proud  of  this  fairy-like 
baby,  but  they  were  also  frightened  of  her.  They  real- 
ized that  she  was  in  the  nature  of  a  freak.  It  seemed 
to  them  that  she  had  come  by  accident ;  that,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  they  had  no  right  to  her.  They  almost 
persuaded  themselves  into  the  belief,  as  the  child  grew 
up,  that  she  was  a  changeling;  that  an  unseen  hand 
must  have  stolen  their  own  sturdy,  freckled  and  ram- 


94  SCANDAL 

pagious  infant,   and   for  some  unaccountable  reason 
slipped  this  exquisite  little  thing  into  her  place. 

There  was,  as  time  passed,  an  element  of  tragedy 
about  this  miracle  or  accident  or  mistake, —  these 
words  and  others  were  used, —  especially  when  Ida 
began  to  find  her  tongue  and  her  feet.  More  and 
more  she  seemed  to  be  an  indignant  hot-house  plant  in 
a  little  cabbage-patch.  Her  parents,  poor  souls,  grew 
more  and  more  awkward  and  unhappy  in  her  presence. 
They  had  the  uncanny  feeling  always  that  she  was 
criticising  them  and  their  mode  of  speech  and  their 
slummachy  way  of  life.  The  affection  and  love  which 
they  had  been  only  too  willing  to  give  her  after  the 
shock  of  her  early  appearance  wore  away,  turned  into 
reluctant  deference  and  a  constant  self-conscious  desire 
to  make  their  apartment  and  themselves  more  tidy  for 
her.  Even  at  the  age  of  ten  she  turned  her  mother 
into  a  maid,  quietly  insisted  that  her  hair  should  be 
brushed  every  night  and  saw  to  it  that  she  was  dressed 
and  undressed,  manicured  and  shampooed.  She  de- 
manded bath  salts  and  scent  from  the  store  and  the 
best  of  soaps  and  powders.  "  Do  this !  Do  that !  " 
she  would  say,  and  if  they  were  not  done  she  raised 
her  voice  and  stamped  her  foot,  while  a  sort  of  flame 
seemed  to  come  from  her  eyes.  No  one  had  ever  seen 
her  cry  after  she  had  learned  to  walk. 

The  McKenna  circle  of  friends,  consisting  of  fellow- 
storekeepers  and  the  Austro-Hungarian  musician  who 
was  the  leader  of  the  little  orchestra  at  the  Paterson- 
Theatre,  watched  Ida's  early  years  with  almost  breath- 
less astonishment  and  a  kind  of  disbelief.     They  ac- 


SCANDAL  95 

cepted  her  much  in  the  same  way  as  they  would,  under 
the  pressure  of  warm  friendship,  have  accepted  a  pet 
marmoset  or  a  cursing  parrot  or  a  dog  with  a  cat's 
tail.  They  noticed,  with  many  comments,  that  she 
grew  up  altogether  without  filial  affection;  that  she 
treated  her  parents  as  though  they  were  paid  attend- 
ants, calling  her  father  "  Sandy,"  as  his  particular 
friends  did,  and  her  mother  "  Alia,"  and  with  the 
most  startling  self-assurance  making  them  conform  to 
all  her  wishes.  It  was  most  uncanny.  Michlikoff, 
the  bird's-nest-headed  musician,  who  had  a  sneaking 
belief  in  the  occult  and  who  read  up  all  that  he  could 
find  on  the  subject  of  transmigration  of  souls,  en- 
deavored to  persuade  his  friends,  in  voluble  broken 
English,  that  Ida  was  a  princess  born  again.  With 
all  those  who  came  from  places  other  than  Missouri, 
he  succeeded. 

It  was  a  perturbed  and  constrained  household  in 
which  this  unexpected  child  grew  up, —  a  household 
that,  to  the  little  bandy  Scot's  never-quite-hidden  dis- 
gust, was  the  subject  of  steady  gossip  in  the  town. 
His  first  ambition  naturally  was  to  see  the  list  of  his 
customers  swell,  but  not  at  the  expense  of  his  pride 
and  self-respect.  Those  two  things,  frequently  men- 
tioned, were  very  dear  to  him.  It  seemed  to  him,  too, 
that  the  family  affairs  of  a  man  who  kept  a  drug-store 
should  be  out  of  the  region  of  gossip.  He  and  his 
still  pretty  wife  were  glad,  infinitely  glad,  when  the 
time  arrived  for  their  daughter  to  attend  the  public 
school.  It  was  only  while  she  was  out  of  the  apart- 
ment that  the  mother  could  go  about  her  work  in  com- 


96  SCANDAL 

fort  and  without  being  constantly  called  away  from 
her  domestic  duties.  The  ^freckled,  red-headed  little 
chemist  only  felt  happy  when  he  saw  this  girl  sail  out 
with  her  books  and  turn  down  the  street  towards  the 
school-house,  with  her  chin  held  high  and  her  astonish- 
ing eyes  filled  with  a  sort  of  scorn  for  all  the  passers-by. 
At  school  she  was  not  a  success.  She  didn't  mix  well. 
The  other  children  held  aloof  from  her.  She  was 
obviously  out  of  place  amongst  them  and  they  resented 
her  presence  in  the  class-rooms.  The  boys  admired 
her  from  a  distance,  fell  into  self-conscious  silence 
when  she  approached  and  whispered  about  her  when 
she  passed  by.  The  girls  were  antagonistic.  They 
were  jealous  of  her  pretty  clothes,  awed  by  her  lofty 
silences  and  surprised  at  her  proficiency  with  her  books. 
On  her  seventeenth  birthday  Ida  went  to  New  York, 
saying  that  she  would  be  back  to  supper.  But  with 
supper  came  a  cold-blooded  note  which  ran  like  this: 

"Dear  Sandy  and  Alia: 

"  I'm  through  with  your  one-eyed  town  and  the  drug- 
store and  provincialism.  I'm  going  to  begin  to  live  and 
dress  as  I  ought  to,  and  there's  only  one  way  to  do  it, — 
the  easiest  way.  I  applied  for  a  job  in  the  chorus  of  the 
Winter  Garden  for  the  new  show  and  got  it.  It  was 
easy.  I  looked  very  nice  in  my  Sunday  clothes  and  the 
stage  manager  said  I  was  a  peach.  Rehearsals  start  to- 
morrow and  I  shall  stay  at  a  boarding-house  with  some 
of  the  other  girls.  So  please  send  me  thirty  dollars  to 
go  on  with  and  the  rest  of  my  things.  The  address  is 
302  West  46th  Street.  I  will  let  you  know  when  to  send 
me  more  money.  You  will  both  be  glad  to  get  rid  of 


SCANDAL  97 

me,  but  not  so  glad  as  I  am  to  be  out  of  Paterson.  I  am 
starting  on  the  bottom  rung  of  the  ladder  and  I  am  going 
to  climb  to  the  top,  whatever  I  have  to  pay  for  it.  Judg- 
ing from  the  way  the  men  in  the  office  look  at  me  they 
will  have  to  do  most  of  the  paying.  «  IDA." 

This  was  read  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McKenna  in  horri- 
fied silence,  but  with  a  mutual  deep  sigh  of  relief,  and 
put  away  in  a  secret  place.  The  only  time  they  ever 
saw  her  again  was  once  when  they  made  a  pilgrimage 
to  Manhattan  and  watched  her  from  the  balcony  of 
what  was  once  a  show  ring  in  Broadway,  and  saw  her, 
almost  nude,  flitting  like  a  butterfly  in  the  glare  of 
light. 

One  other  note  they  received  from  this  curious  per- 
son, and  this,  enclosing  a  cheque  for  two  hundred  dol- 
lars, contained  the  news  that  Ida  was  going  to  Eng- 
land with  a  musical  comedy  company  in  which  she 
was  playing  a  small  part.  And  that  was  the  last  they 
ever  heard  of  her.  She  had  come  like  a  stranger  and 
like  a  stranger  she  departed.  The  cheque  they  never 
used.  With  an  odd  sensation  of  having  been  insulted 
by  it  they  put  it  in  a  drawer  among  receipts  and  speci- 
mens of  patent  medicines  and  left  it  there.  And  then, 
happy  again,  they  returned  to  their  habitual  untidi- 
ness and  the  daily  routine  of  hard  work  and  endeavored 
to  forget.  They  regarded  it  as  a  blessing  that  nature 
had  punished  them  only  once.  And  when  eventually 
they  removed  themselves  to  a  larger  and  more  preten- 
tious store  they  left  a  photograph  of  a  little  wide-eyed 
girl  among  their  debris  and  felt  as  though  a  weight  had 
been  lifted  from  their  shoulders. 


98  SCANDAL 

If  they  had  been  able  to  watch  the  London  news- 
papers, especially  the  Sketch  and  Tatler,  they  would 
have  quivered  at  the  sight  of  this  strange  girl  in  many 
graceful  attitudes  and  in  the  scantiest  of  costumes  as 
she  appeared  in  almost  weekly  photographic  studies, 
and  they  would  have  gasped  if  they  had  presently  read 
the  glowing  accounts  of  the  marriage  of  Ida  McKenna 
to  Captain  Claude  Elcho  Larpent,  nephew  of  Field 
Marshal  Viscount  Risborough,  at  St.  George's,  Han- 
over Square.  The  headings  of  these  paragraphs  had 
it  that  Society  had  once  more  made  an  alliance  with 
the  stage,  but  the  gushing  paragraphs  that  came  be- 
neath stated  (how  amazed  the  chemist  would  have 
been)  that  the  bride  came  of  one  of  the  best  American 
families,  her  father  being  a  famous  scientist  whose 
country  house  was  at  Paterson,  New  Jersey,  and  her 
mother  a  distant  connection  of  the  Russian  Chan- 
cellor. 

Ida  Larpent  took  her  place  in  English  society  as 
though  to  the  manner  born.  She  became  the  beautiful 
Mrs.  Larpent  without  turning  a  hair.  She  ran  a  little 
house  in  Mayfair  on  her  husband's  excellent  income  as 
though  Mayfair  had  been  her  playground  since  child- 
hood. She  entertained  the  younger  set  and  a  sprink- 
ling of  duchesses  with  all  the  insouciance  of  minor 
royalty,  and  plunged  her  husband  into  debt  in  the  same 
cold-blooded  way  that  she  had  run  up  bills  in  her 
native  town,  from  which  on  clear  days  one  can  see  the 
Simelike  unbelievable  buildings  of  the  great  city. 

Claude  Larpent  was  passionately  in  love  with  his 
beautiful  and  expensive  wife.  With  all  the  careless 


SCANDAL  99 

pride  of  a  mere  boy  of  twenty-six  he  gave  her  the 
reins,  and  so  long  as  she  made  some  return  for  his  love 
never  grumbled  at  her  recklessness  or  her  intimacy 
with  men  whom  he,  before  marriage,  would  not  have 
touched  with  the  end  of  a  barge-pole.  He  trusted  her. 
She  was  his  wife.  She  had  chosen  him  from  among 
all  the  men  who  would  eagerly  have  knelt  at  her  feet. 
In  his  weakness  he  stood  lovingly  by  while  she  relent- 
lessly ran  him  on  the  rocks  and  into  bankruptcy.  But 
it  was  not  until  one  bad  night  when  he  discovered  by 
accident  that  she  had  sold  herself  for  diamonds  to  a 
most  atrocious  vieux  marcheur  that  he  confessed  him- 
self broken,  exchanged  from  his  crack  regiment  to  the 
Houssa  Police  and  disappeared  to  the  West  Coast  of 
Africa,  the  white  man's  grave.  It  was  exactly  three 
years  after  the  bells  of  St.  George's  had  rung  their 
merry  peal  that  the  obituary  notice  in  the  London 
papers  contained  a  few  lines  to  the  effect  that  Claude 
Elcho  Larpent  had  fallen  a  victim  to  black  water  fever. 
The  truth  was  that  this  foolish  young  man  had  died  of 
whisky  and  a  broken  heart,  and  had  been  buried  in  the 
bush  mourned  and  respected  by  the  sturdy  little  men 
whom  he  had  treated  with  that  mixture  of  firmness 
and  camaraderie  characteristic  of  the  English  officer. 
His  widow,  still  in  the  first  flush  of  youth  and  beauty, 
was  left  penniless,  but  bejewelled,  and  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  events, —  men  being  awake  to  the  fact  that 
they  need  not  marry  her, —  came  under  the  protection 
of  a  wealthy  railway  man  who  planted  her  temporarily 
in  a  pleasant  portion  of  Mayfair,  rather  sarcastically 
named  Green  Street,  Berkeley  Square,  The  beautiful 


ioo  SCANDAL 

Mrs.  Larpent  thereupon  lost  a  certain  amount  of  caste, 
but  not  very  much.  Duchesses  dropped  her,  but  semi- 
society  drank  her  wines  without  a  twinge  and  enjoyed 
many  week-ends  at  her  beautiful  house  on  the  banks 
of  the  Thames  near  Henley.  Younger  sons  and  the 
stage  herded  about  her,  accepting  gladly  enough  her 
lavish  hospitality.  The  only  thing  that  Ida  Larpent 
had  inherited  from  her  father  was  thrift.  And  before 
the  railway  magnate  disappeared  from  his  surround- 
ings in  an  apoplectic  fit,  she  had  managed  to  put  by  a 
large  enough  sum  of  money  to  bring  her  in  somewhere 
about  six  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  upon  that,  feel- 
ing the  need  of  a  change  of  air  and  surroundings, 
she  returned  to  America. 

When  Franklin  met  her  first,  during  one  of  his 
brief  visits  to  New  York,  he  found  her  very  cosily 
ensconced  in  a  tiny  apartment,  gracefully  furnished, 
over  a  dressmaker's  shop  in  East  Fifty-sixth  Street, 
from  which,  clothed  to  perfection,  she  drove  forth 
nightly  in  her  limousine  to  dine  at  the  best  houses. 
She  had  come  to  the  United  States  to  catch  a  husband. 
Her  experience  had  taught  her  that  a  husband  is  a 
more  permanent  institution  than  a  protector.  She  was 
determined  to  marry  money.  The  need  of  it,  in  bulk, 
was  essential  to  her  comfort  and  peace  of  mind.  In 
order  to  do  so,  she  lived  on  her  capital,  thus  conveying 
the  impression  that  she  was  very  well  off.  Time  after 
time  she  could  have  marched  fairly  rich  young  men  off 
to  church  by  their  ears,  but  she  was  very  fastidious, — 
not  so  much  in  regard  to  them,  as  men,  as  to  their  bank 
accounts.  She  didn't  intend  to  make  a  second  mistake. 


S< 


SCANDAL  101 

Then  she  met  Pelham  Franklin  at  that  sort  of  sham 
Bohemian  supper  at  which  all  the  women  wear  dia- 
monds and  all  the  men  are  clean  and  civilized.  She 
fell  in  love  with  him  before  she  found  out  who  he  was. 
His  brown  i'ace  and  outdoor  manner  and  the  air  he 
had  about  him  of  not  carrying  a  superfluous  ounce  of 
flesh,  his  utter  incompetency  as  a  drawing-room  man, 
which  was  proved  by  his  not  paying  her  a  single  com- 
pliment or  saying  anything  personal,  delighted  her. 

he  was  sick  of  those  others  who  all  looked  alike  and 
said  the  same  things  and  counted  for  nothing.  Frank- 
lin came  as  a  change.  His  masculinity  appealed  to  her. 

or  the  first  time  in  her  life  passion  stirred  and  her 
self-complacency  was  shaken.  Before  the  night  was 
out  she  heard  his  name  and  gave  thanks  to  all  her  gods 
for  putting  him  in  her  way.  He  came  at  the  moment 
when  her  money  was  running  out  and  the  greater  part 
of  her  morning  mail  consisted  of  demands  for  payment 
from  impatient  and  long-suffering  trades-people. 
During  the  fortnight  that  Franklin  remained  in  town 
she  concentrated  upon  him,  using  all  her  wiles  to  bring 
him  up  to  the  scratch.  Malcolm  Fraser  was  not  in 
town  at  that  time,  nor  were  any  of  the  other  men  with 
whom  Franklin  was  on  terms  of  intimate  friendship. 
Feeling  lonely  and  at  a  rather  loose  end  he  saw  a  good 
deal  more  of  Mrs.  Larpent,  under  those  circumstances, 
than  he  would  have  done  in  normal  conditions.  He 
took  her  to  dinner  at  Sherry's  and  the  Ritz,  night  after 
night,  and  was  delighted  at  her  readiness  to  do  the 
theatres  with  him.  It  was  too  cold-blooded  a  business 
to  see  the  plays  alone.  Several  times,  too,  he  spent  a 


102  SCANDAL 

late  hour  after  supper  in  her  charming  little  drawing- 
room  smoking  and  chatting.  They  knew  many  of  the 
same  people  in  London  and  Paris.  He  flirted  a  little 
with  her  —  certainly.  Why  not?  Her  beauty  was 
unique,  her  way  of  expressing  herself  quite  brilliant 
and  amusing,  and  that  air  of  regal  mystery  that  was  all 
about  her  piqued  curiosity.  He  had  never  the  least 
intention  of  doing  more  than  merely  flirt,  and  not  being 
a  lady's  man  and  being  therefore  without  conceit  it 
never  occurred  to  him  that  his  quick  friendship  could 
be  misconstrued  or  his  frank  admiration  could  pos- 
sibly lead  her  to  believe  that  he  nourished  even  the 
germ  of  an  idea  of  following  these  pleasant  evenings 
up  with  anything  serious.  He  went  away  under  the 
impression  that  he  would  be  forgotten  as  quickly  as  he 
had  been  taken  up,  and  was  utterly  and  blissfully  un- 
aware of  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Larpent  had  fallen  in  love 
with  him.  He  would  have  roared  with  incredulous 
laughter  at  the  mere  suggestion. 

Thus  things  had  been  left  when  Franklin  felt  the 
call  of  the  sea  and  took  Malcolm  Eraser  for  a  cruise 
in  the  yacht  on  which  he  spent  the  best  hours  of  his 
life.  He  wrote  a  little  letter  to  Mrs.  Larpent  on  the 
morning  he  went  out  of  town  and  thanked  her  warmly 
for  her  kindness  and  "  looked  forward  tremendously 
to  seeing  her  directly  he  got  back."  Into  these  few 
rather  boyish  and  certainly  sincere  words  Ida,  making 
a  most  uncharacteristic  blunder  in  psychology,  read 
what  she  most  wanted  to  read, —  love,  and,  of  course, 
eventually  marriage.  During  his  absence  she  marked 
time  impatiently,  but  with  a  new  smile  on  her  red  lips 


SCANDAL  103 

and  a  gentler  manner  towards  those  about  her,  keeping 
her  tradesmen  in  a  good  temper  by  throwing  out  tiny 
hints  of  impending  good  fortune.  It  was  solely  to 
meet  Franklin  again  that  this  sophisticated,  ambitious, 
luxury-loving,  unscrupulous  woman  became  a  member 
of  the  Vanderdyke  house-party, —  to  see  again  the  man 
who,  alone  among  men,  had  touched  her  heart  and 
awakened  her  passion.  Like  a  girl  from  a  Convent 
school,  young  and  sweet  and  inarticulate,  she  went. 
Imagine  her  anger  and  distress  at  finding  on  her  arrival 
at  the  Vanderdyke  barrack  that  she  was  asked  to  add 
her  congratulations  to  those  of  the  family  and  their 
friends  on  the  marriage  of  Franklin  and  that  "  damn 
girl,"  as  she  called  her.  Imagine  it!  The  shock,  the 
disappointment,  the  shattering  of  her  one  good 
dream 


IX 

WHEN  Franklin  left  the  bedroom  in  which  he  had 
gone  through  the  strangest  hour  of  his  life,  he  went 
into  the  room  which  had  been  allotted  to  him  and 
from  which  some  of  his  things  had  been  taken,  and 
stood  for  a  little  while  at  an  open  window  taking  in 
long,  deep  breaths.  His  mind  was  in  too  chaotic  a 
state  to  permit  him  to  think  patiently  of  going  to  sleep, 
and  in  the  back  of  it,  now  that  his  anger  had  cooled, 
there  was  a  growing  feeling  of  self-disgust  at  the  way 
in  which  he  had  treated  Beatrix  Vanderdyke.  He  was 
sorry  that  he  had  allowed  himself  to  be  carried  in  front 
of  a  wave  of  extreme  indignation  and  he  told  himself, 
a  little  ruefully,  that  after  all  it  wasn't  for  him  to  take 
the  law  into  his  own  hands.  He  called  himself,  with 
unusual  sarcasm,  an  egotist,  an  individualist,  and  cursed 
his  vanity  which  rose  up  whenever  anyone  attempted 
to  make  a  fool  of  him,  and  was  aghast  to  discover  how 
very  little  it  took  to  make  a  man  lose  the  effects  and 
influence  of  civilization. 

And  when  he  endeavored  to  look  into  the  future  that 
was  staring  him  in  the  face  —  the  future  all  disturbed 
and  upset  by  the  unexpected  entrance  into  his  life  01 
the  girl  who  had  treated  him  merely  as  a  pawn  upon 
her  lightly  considered  chess-board,  he  found  himself 
wholly  unable  to  see  through  the  maze  that  stretched 
out  in  front  of  him.  He  was  no  longer  in  the  splendid 


SCANDAL  105 

position  of  a  free  lance.  He  was  no  longer  able  to 
pass  through  his  days  unencumbered  with  any  sort  of 
responsibility.  He  saw  that  he  was  to  pay  the  full 
price  for  that  moment  of  aberration  during  which  he 
had  permitted  himself  to  fall  in  with  Beatrix's  daringly 
manufactured  lie.  It  was  with  a  feeling  that  gave  him 
back  something  of  his  self-respect  that  he  realized 
that  it  was  impossible  to  give  Beatrix  away  until  he 
had  her  permission  to  do  so.  She  had  appealed  to  him 
as  a  sportsman  and  it  was  as  a  sportsman,  as  a  man 
who  stuck  to  the  rules  of  whatever  game  he  played, 
that  he  endeavored  to  report  daily  to  the  particular 
god  that  he  worshipped. 

Sick  of  himself,  sick  of  his  room,  sick  of  every- 
thing, he  went  out  presently  into  the  passage, —  a  wide, 
dimly  lit  passage  hung  with  old  masters  and  carpeted 
with  Persian  rugs  which  were  beautiful  and  rare 
enough  to  hang  upon  the  walls  of  an  art  gallery, —  and 
went  slowly  down-stairs  into  the  hall.  For  some  mo- 
ments he  paced  up  and  down  this  deserted  place  asking 
himself  how  he  was  to  kill  the  night.  He  had  no 
patience  for  books, —  he  very  rarely  read  anything  ex- 
cept technical  things  on  hunting  and  fishing, —  but 
eventually  he  made  his  way  to  the  library,  the  nicest 
and  most  reasonable  room  in  that  uncomfortable,  lux- 
urious house.  He  was  aware  immediately  of  the  pres- 
ence of  someone  standing  at  the  window.  The  moon- 
light fell  on  a  dark  head  and  a  tall,  graceful  figure.  He 
turned  up  the  lights  and  found  himself  looking  into 
the  reproachful  and  rather  sarcastic  eyes  of  Ida  Lar- 
pent. 


io6  SCANDAL 

She  was  still  in  the  noticeably  simple  and  very  per- 
fect dress  that  she  had  worn  at  dinner, —  a  soft,  black 
thing  not  cut  slavishly  to  the  existing  fashion,  but  made 
to  suit  her  peculiar  beauty  and  slender,  hipless  lines. 
Cut  down  to  the  waist  at  the  back,  it  seemed  to  retain 
*  its  place  in  front  by  a  miracle.  One  large,  star-shaped 
brooch  studded  as  closely  with  diamonds  as  a  clear  sky 
with  stars  was  fastened  between  her  breasts,  and  jet 
beads  glinted  here  and  there  about  the  graceful  skirt 
that  hid  her  feet.  A  band  of  small  pearls  was  placed 
like  an  aureola  round  her  head,  from  which  hung  one 
large  insolent  diamond  just  where  her  hair  was  parted 
on  her  low  forehead.  She  wore  no  rings. 

She  moved  away  from  the  window  and  leaned  lightly 
against  one  of  the  pillars,  running  her  eyes  slowly  up 
and  down  Franklin's  tall,  wiry  figure.  She  might  eas- 
ily have  been  standing  for  an  artist  as  the  modern 
representation  of  Lucretia  Borgia. 

"  Well ! "  she  said,  with  a  just  perceptible  upward 
inflection  of  her  bell-like  voice. 

To  Franklin  she  seemed  to  be  symbolical  of  his  lost 
freedom,  the  unconscious  reminder  of  the  good  days 
when  he  could  go  and  come  at  will,  answer  immediately 
to  a  whim  and  move  to  a  fancy  as  a  sail  to  a  breeze. 
During  the  course  of  that  afternoon  and  evening  he 
had  not  attempted  to  do  more  than  pass  the  time  of  day 
with  her,  and  had  forgotten,  in  the  sudden  whirlpool 
into  which  he  had  been  dragged  by  Beatrix,  that  he 
had  arranged  to  meet  her  under  that  roof  to  renew  a 
very  charming  friendship.  It  was  now  easy  enough  to 
see  from  her  expression  and  manner  that  he  was  to 


SCANDAL  107 

undergo  a  bad  quarter-of-an-hour  for  his  lack  of  at- 
tention. He  deeply  regretted  to  have  hurt  her  feelings 
but  was  not  sorry  that  he  had  gone  into  the  room. 
If  there  was  anything  unpleasant  to  be  faced  it  was  his 
habit  to  face  it  and  get  it  over.  He  did  not  suffer  from 
moral  cowardice. 

"Well!"  he  said. 

"  I've  just  finished  writing  you  a  letter." 

"  That's  very  nice  of  you." 

There  was  a  kind  of  laugh.  "  I  hope  you'll  think  so 
after  you've  read  it." 

"  I'll  read  it  now,  if  I  may,"  said  Franklin,  holding 
out  his  hand. 

"  You  may  as  well."  But  she  tore  the  letter  into 
small  pieces  and  dropped  them  at  her  feet.  "  No. 
:Why  should  I  give  you  the  pleasure  of  seeing  how  much 
you've  made  me  suffer?  " 

The  word  suffer  and  the  unconcealed  break  in  the 
woman's  voice  puzzled  and  surprised  Franklin.  Was 
she  acting?  He  saw  no  reason  why  she  should.  It 
never  entered  into  the  very  recesses  of  his  mind  that 
there  could  be  any  sentiment  on  her  part.  Why  should 
there  be?  "  That  wouldn't  give  me  any  pleasure,"  he 
said,  with  a  sort  of  boyish  sincerity. 

She  looked  at  him  a  little  eagerly,  saw  that  there 
was  nothing  in  his  eyes  that  she  needed,  nodded  two  or 
three  times  and  shrugged  her  shoulders.  It  was  a 
hard  thing  to  be  made  to  confess  that  this  man  who  was 
so  desirable  had  merely  passed  a  few  hours  with  her  for 
the  lack  of  a  friend.  A  new  thing,  too,  after  her  wide 
experience  of  men.  Nevertheless,  she  had  run  through 


io8  SCANDAL 

the  last  of  her  remaining  money.  This  was  no  hour 
for  pride.  She  stood  in  dire  and  urgent  need  of  funds. 
It  was  impossible  for  him  to  be  her  husband,  but  well 
within  the  range  of  her  ability  to  see  that  he  became 
her  banker. 

"Did  you  know  that  I  was  in  the  library?"  she 
asked,  making  one  more  effort  to  prove  herself  wrong 
in  her  quick  intuition.  This  was  probably,  she  told 
herself,  a  marriage  of  convenience. 

"  No." 

"  You  just  came  in  by  accident?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  see.  Well,  then,  as  we're  here  and  we're  both 
obviously  in  no  mood  for  sleep,  shall  we  while  away 
the  time  with  a  little  discussion  on  the  short  memories 
of  men, —  some  men?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  replied  Franklin,  and  drew  up  a  chair 
for  her. 

But  Mrs.  Larpent  gave  a  sharp,  eloquent  gesture. 
The  chair  ought  rightly  to  have  wheeled  itself  into  the 
darkest  corner.  "  I'll  stand,  thanks.  Oddly  enough 
I  feel  volcanic  like  most  women  at  the  end  of  their 
tether  who  have  been  chucked." 

The  abrupt,  descriptive  colloquialism  came  strangely 
from  her.  She  was  so  finished,  so  apparently  fas- 
tidious. Also  she  spoke  with  the  slight  drawl  and  af- 
fectation that  some  English  people  acquire  after  much 
practice,  and  imagine  to  be  smart. 

"  Chucked  ?  "  he  echoed.     "  How  ?     By  whom  ?  " 

This  gave  Mrs.  Larpent  a  double  opportunity  to  get 
rid  of  her  spleen  and  chagrin  in  an  outburst  of  hys- 


SCANDAL  109 

teria  and  to  work  on  Franklin's  sympathies  by  let- 
ting him  see  that  she  must  have  money  or  sell  her 
jewels.  It  didn't  matter  to  her  what  he  thought  of  her 
now. 

"  By  you !  By  you !  "  she  said,  her  voice  all  broken 
with  emotion.  "  You  came  into  my  life  when  I  was 
most  lonely,  most  in  need  of  tenderness  and  kind  treat- 
ment and  on  the  very  edge  of  a  crumbling  cliff.  I 
didn't  believe  that  you  were  playing  the  usual  game 
with  me.  You  didn't  seem  to  be  that  kind  of  man.  I 
thought, —  yes,  even  I,  who  have  grappled  with  life  and 
am  without  much  faith  in  human  nature, —  that  you 
saw  all  that  is  good  and  decent  in  me  and  answered  to 
the  love  that  you  had  set  alight  in  my  heart.  Why 
else,  I  asked  myself,  did  you  come  day  after  day  and 
night  after  night,  in  a  city  reeking  with  people  who 
would  have  been  eager  to  amuse  you,  and  claim  me  in 
a  loneliness  that  was  almost  equal  to  mine  ?  Why  else 
did  you  let  me  see  the  best  of  yourself  and  treat  me 
with  the  respect  that  a  man  only  shows  to  the  woman 
whom  he  is  going  to  ask  to  be  his  wife?  Most  of  the 
men  I  meet  are  different.  They  only  see  in  me  an  un- 
attached woman  living  on  a  shoe-string,  willing  enough 
to  sell  her  beauty  for  cash.  But  in  you  I  thought  I  saw 
honesty  and  sincerity  and  chivalry,  and  whether  you 
knew  it  or  not  you  let  me  wander  into  a  fool's  paradise 
and  dream  of  a  home  and  a  great  love  and  peace.  And 
on  the  strength  of  the  little  note  you  wrote  before  you 
sailed  I  saw  the  promise  of  security  from  dunning 
creditors  and  hope  rising  over  my  unhappy  horizon.  I 
blurt  all  this  out  now  only  because  I'm  still  suffering 


no  SCANDAL 

from  the  shock  of  finding  you  married.  You  must 
forgive  me." 

She  turned  abruptly  on  her  heel,  with  her  hands  over 
her  face,  and  stood  once  more  in  the  window  silvered 
by  the  moon.  Even  with  those  tears  on  her  face  and 
that  pain  in  her  heart  she  was  able  to  congratulate  her- 
self on  having  made  the  speech  of  her  life. 

Franklin  was  appalled.  His  knowledge  of  women 
was  as  small  as  that  of  most  men  whose  lives  are  spent 
in  the  open.  Of  the  Larpent  type  he  was  wholly  ig- 
norant. He  believed  that  she  was  telling  the  truth 
and  her  confession,  made  with  trembling  lips  and 
streaming  eyes  and  a  broken  voice,  hurt  him.  He  had 
never  listened  to  anything  so  painful  or  so  horribly 
embarrassing.  What  could  he  do  or  say  ?  How  could 
he  possibly  explain  that  her  beauty  had  only  made  a 
skin-deep  impression  and  that  he  had  only  regarded 
her  as  a  most  delightful  companion.  And  so  he  said 
nothing.  It  was  too  difficult.  He  just  remained 
standing  with  his  shoulders  squared  and  his  hands 
behind  his  back  and  willed  that  woman,  for  God's  sake, 
to  stop  crying  and  tell  him  what  he  could  do  to  make 
things  easier  for  her.  And  the  thing  that  he  wished 
with  all  his  soul  was  that  he  was  back  on  his  yacht, 
with  the  clean  night  air  brushing  across  his  face  and 
the  laughter  of  his  intimate  pals  ringing  in  his  ears. 

During  the  curious,  uneasy  moments  that  followed 
he  let  his  eyes  wander  about  the  huge  room  with  its 
pseudo-Gothic  ceiling  and  pillars,  its  book-lined  walls 
and  its  numerous  cases  of  old  Bibles  and  first  editions, 
collections  of  rare  and  wonderful  bindings,  and  the 


SCANDAL  in 

assortment  of  deep  arm-chairs  and  silky  rugs  which 
gave  it  the  appearance  of  a  room  in  a  public  library 
rescued  from  its  cold  formality  by  a  lover  of  books, 
who  saw  no  reason  why  they  should  not  be  enjoyed  in 
comfort.  Only  one  end  of  it  was  lit,  and  the  rest  was 
in  shadow  except  for  a  shaft  of  silver  light  that  pierced 
one  of  the  high  windows  and  spilt  itself  on  the  plinth 
of  a  pillar.  He  wondered  what  Mrs.  Larpent  would 
say  next.  He  hadn't  missed  her  hint  of  the  need  of 
money.  He  felt  more  than  ever  unhappy  and  uncom- 
fortable. But  on  that  point,  at  any  rate,  she  could 
count  on  his  help,  difficult  as  it  would  be  to  put  it  into 
practice. 

Mrs.  Larpent  gave  another  curious  little  laugh, 
turned  and  came  back.  Franklin  glanced  quickly  at 
her.  She  moved  closer  and  there  was  something  about 
her  mouth  and  nostrils  that  showed  him  that  he  was 
right  in  thinking  that  she  had  read  his  thoughts. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  "  she  asked, 
taking  advantage  of  the  light  so  that  the  softness  and 
whiteness  of  her  body  should  not  be  lost.  One  of  her 
smiles  had  never  failed.  She  adopted  it  then.  Even 
she  retained  her  optimism. 

"  What  you  say  goes,"  said  Franklin. 

"You  mean  that,  Pelham?"  Two  or  three  steps 
took  her  within  arm's  reach.  The  light  remained 
upon  her.  If  this  was  merely  a  marriage  of  con- 
venience he  might  make  a  suggestion  that  would,  at  any 
rate,  give  her  a  brief  happiness. 

"Of  course.  I  only  want  you  to  —  to  tell  me  what 
I  can  do." 


112  SCANDAL 

Optimism  could  not  live  under  that  suggestion,  how- 
ever generously  meant  and  delicately  put,  of  payment 
by  cheque.  Nevertheless,  Ida  Larpent  sat  down.  It 
was  bitter  to  see  that  her  love  was  not  to  be  returned, 
but  good  to  feel  that  her  diminished  bank  account  was 
likely  to  be  substantially  refreshed.  She  felt  like  a 
woman  who  had  swum  out  of  her  depth,  lost  her  nerve, 
made  a  mighty  effort  and  feels  at  last  the  sand  against 
her  knees.  Metaphorically  she  drew  herself  wearily 
out  of  the  water  and  with  a  renewed  sense  of  confidence 
felt  the  warm  sun  upon  her  limbs. 

There  was  something  detestably  cold-blooded  in  all 
this,  and  Franklin  hated  it.  He  had  hitherto  managed 
to  keep  himself  free  from  women.  They  interfered 
with  his  pursuits.  Why  fate  should  have  gone  sud- 
denly out  of  its  way  to  plunge  him  into  the  midst  of 
this  woman  stuff,  as  he  impatiently  called  it,  was  more 
than  he  could  understand. 

He  looked  down  at  Ida  Larpent.  She  was  sitting  in 
a  low,  red-leather  chair, —  the  sort  of  thing  that  is 
supposed  to  belong  to  a  room  inhabited  by  men.  Her 
amazing  hair,  as  black  as  the  wing  of  a  crow,  had  been 
touched  here  arid  there  with  the  tongs.  It  framed  a 
face  as  white  as  marble, —  a  curiously  small  oval  face, 
—  with  eyes  remarkably  wide  apart  and  large  and 
luminous ;  a  small  aristocratic  nose,  with  sensitive  nos- 
trils which  indicated  passion  as  well  as  impatience,  and 
a  mouth  whose  lips  were  full  and  artificially  red.  Her 
small  round  white  shoulders  were  more  daringly  bare 
than  those  of  any  woman  he  had  seen,  and  her  two  fine 
hands  looked  like  those  in  the  old  French  pictures 


SCANDAL  [113 

which  hang  in  those  houses  in  Paris  that  were  spared 
by  the  Sans-Culottes.  Indeed,  the  whole  figure,  from 
head  to"  foot,  looked  like  an  oil  painting  of  a  period  in 
French  history  when  aristocracy  had  reached  its  acme. 
As  a  companion  for  a  man  of  enforced  leisure  and  un- 
limited means  and  no  ties  she  had  everything  in  her 
favor,  physically  and  mentally.  As  Franklin  stood 
looking  at  her,  however,  with  all  the  admiration  that 
was  due  to  her,  he  found  himself  unconsciously  com- 
paring her, —  this  exotic  —  this  most  exquisite  of 
rare  orchids, —  with  the  fresh,  buoyant,  healthy, 
clean,  proud,  spoilt  girl  who  called  herself  his 
wife. 

"  Will  you  be  honest  with  me?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  haven't  got  much  to  bless  myself  with  except 
that,"  he  answered. 

"  Were  you  married  when  you  came  to  my  apart- 
ment in  March  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  that's  something,"  she  said.  "  When  were 
you  married  ?  " 

"Does  that  matter?" 

"  Perhaps  not.  The  fact  remains.  I'm  naturally 
interested  and  curious,  so  tell  me  this :  Was  it  a  sud- 
den infatuation  for  that  child  who  rules  the  roost  here, 
—  a  sudden  burst  of  sentimentality  that  doesn't  seem 
part  of  you,  or  —  what?  I  think  I  have  the  right  to 
ask." 

;<  You  have,"  said  Franklin.  "  It  was  all  very  sud- 
den. That's  all  I  can  tell  you  about  it." 

"  I  see.     And  now  that  you  are  tied  up  and  more 


ii4  SCANDAL 

than  ever  under  the  microscopic  eye  of  the  public — 
what?" 

"Well,— what?" 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  a  little  careless  in  the  matter 
of  marriage  vows,  or  carry  them  out  to  the  letter  ?  " 
She  stretched  herself  a  little  and  smiled  up  at  him,  still 
fighting  for  the  dream  that  had  made  her  for  a  little 
while  so  young  and  gentle  and  unworldly. 

"  I  asked  you  to  believe  that  I  am  honest,"  said 
Franklin,  who  had  never  in  his  life  been  so  puzzled  as 
to  a  choice  of  words. 

And  then  Mrs.  Larpent  got  up.  "  I  see,"  she  said, 
and  held  out  her  hand.  "  Well,  I,  at  any  rate,  have 
not  beaten  about  the  bush,  and  you  have  spared  my 
feelings  with  very  real  kindness.  And  so  good 
night!" 

"  Good  night !  "  said  Franklin. 

"  You  can  think  of  nothing  else  that  you  would  like 
to  say?" 

Franklin  had  something  else  to  say, —  the  question 
of  a  certain  sum  of  money.  But,  like  a  horse  brought 
nose  up  to  a  high  jump,  he  refused,  shook  his  head, 
and  immediately  added,  "  Yes.  I'm  awfully  sorry 
about  all  this.  Please  accept  my  humble  apologies." 

Mrs.  Larpent  bowed,  but  the  gracious  smile  on  her 
lips  was  contradicted  by  her  eyes.  They  were  full  of 
pain  and  anger.  And  while  she  still  held  Franklin's 
hand  she  registered  an  oath  that  she  would  leave  no 
stone  unturned  to  make  him  forget  his  honesty  before 
many  months  had  passed  and  lead  hei  willingly  into 
a  new  and  beautiful  dream. 


SCANDAL  11$ 

"  How  long  are  you  staying  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I'm  leaving  to-morrow,"  she  said.  "  It  isn't  aw- 
fully amusing  to  go  through  the  jealous  agonies  of 
hell." 

"  I'll  write  to  your  apartment,"  said  Franklin,  stum- 
bling a  little  over  the  words. 

"  Thank  you."  She  took  his  meaning  and  was  cer- 
tain of  his  generosity. 

He  watched  her  go,  moving  with  a  sort  of  medieval 
dignity,  an  almost  uncanny  suggestion  of  having 
stepped  out  of  an  old  frame  to  return  to  it  before  the 
finger  of  dawn  began  to  rub  away  the  night. 


IT  was  eleven  o'clock  before  Beatrix  opened  her  eyes 
to  a  new  day.  For  two  hours  Mrs.  Lester  Keene  had 
hovered  about  the  room  like  an  elderly  beetle,  settling 
here  and  there  for  a  moment  or  two  and  then  continu- 
ing her  aimless  and  irresolute  flitting.  Two  or  three 
times  she  had  stood  over  the  sleeping  girl  and  gazed 
with  a  sort  of  amazement  at  a  face  that  looked 
strangely  childlike,  with  long  lashes  like  fans  upon  her 
cheeks  and  lips  a  little  parted.  Then  she  would  take  a 
magazine  to  one  of  the  windows,  read  a  few  lines  here 
and  there  without  taking  in  their  meaning  and  gaze  at 
the  illustrations  intently  without  knowing  what  they 
intended  to  represent.  The  truth  was  that  the  loyal 
and  well-meaning  lady  was  not  herself.  Her  constitu- 
tion, not  of  a  very  sound  order,  had  been  almost  shat- 
tered by  her  experience  the  night  before.  She  had  kept 
watch  and  had  seen  Franklin  leave  the  bedroom  shortly 
after  he  had  evicted  her  from  it,  and  then,  with  inex- 
pressible relief  and  thankfulness,  gone  to  bed,  but  the 
terrible  anxiety  had  told  upon  her.  Hitherto  she  had 
never  been  called  upon  to  undergo  more  nerve-strain 
than  is  endured  by  a  hen  in  a  well-regulated  chicken 
run,  seeing  life  and  adventure  and  passion  only 
through  the  eyes  of  her  favorite  novelists.  She  had, 
however,  slept  very  little  and  given  orders  that  she 
should  be  called  at  half-past  seven,  so  that  she  might 


SCANDAL  117 

go  early  to  Beatrix  and  give  her  the  benefit  of  her  ad- 
vice. She  still  remained  under  the  impression,  poor 
little  lady,  that  her  advice  was  of  the  greatest  assist- 
ance to  the  wilful,  headstrong  girl,  even  though  she 
never  made  the  merest  pretence  to  follow  it. 

Beatrix  awoke,  finally,  as  a  flower  opens  to  the  sun. 
"Oh!  Hello,  Brownie,"  she  said,  "  ever-  faith  ful ! 
Heigh-ho!  I've  had  such  a  lovely  sleep.  All  in  one 
piece  without  a  dream.  I  feel  about  fifteen."  She 
stretched  herself  lazily  and  put  her  arms  behind  her 
head.  "  Will  you  please  tell  Helene  that  I  want  a  cup 
of  tea  at  once, —  at  once,  Brownie.  If  it  doesn't  come 
in  five  minutes  it  won't  be  of  any  use  to  me.  You're 
a  dear  old  thing  to  bother,"  She  gave  a  little  musical 
yawn  as  the  fluffy-minded  woman  hurried  to  the  maid's 
room  and  gave  the  order  with  that  sort  of  mysterious 
urgency  which  is  connected  with  embassies  in  moments 
of  national  crises  and  theatres  during  a  dress  re- 
hearsal. 

When  she  returned,  which  she  did  at  once, —  her 
mind  being  all  astir  with  curiosity, —  she  saw  that 
Beatrix  was  sitting  up  in  bed  with  her  hands  clasped 
about  her  knees,  her  eyebrows  meeting  in  a  frown,  her 
lips  set  tightly  and  her  eyes  full  of  anger.  Mrs.  Keene 
had  never  seen  this  expression  on  the  girl's  face  before. 
If  she  had  heard  Franklin's  parting  remark  she  would 
have  known  the  reason  for  it. 

"It's  very  late,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Keene;  "after 
eleven,  and  all  the  people  have  been  rehearsing  in  the 
gardens  for  an  hour." 

"  Oh,  well,  it's  a  charming  morning.     It  will  do 


n8  SCANDAL 

them  good.  I  wonder  if  the  matinee  idol  has  shaved 
himself!  I  understand  that  they  don't  do  that  thing 
until  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon."  And  then 
she  began  to  laugh,  more  to  hide  her  feelings  than  any- 
thing else. 

Not  even  to  Brownie  did  she  intend  to  show  what 
she  felt  about  the  episode  of  the  previous  night,  or  how 
deeply  she  resented  the  humiliation  to  which  Franklin 
had  subjected  her.  Never  in  all  her  life  would  she 
forget  that,  or  forgive, —  never. 

"  We  certainly  may  be  said  to  be  living  on  the  top 
of  a  volcano,  Brownie.  No  monotony  about  life  just 
now,  is  there?"  And  then  she  suddenly  slipped  out 
of  bed,  alert  and  full  of  a  new  idea.  "  Go  down  and 
see  what's  happening,"  she  added.  "  Be  my  secret 
agent  and  come  back  with  a  full  report  of  what  Frank- 
lin has  been  doing  since  breakfast.  Be  very  discreet 
and  smile, —  smile  all  the  time,  bearing  in  mind  that 
you  are  the  closest  friend  of  a  girl  who  has  just  been 
happily  married." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  cried  Mrs.  Keene,  "  don't  talk  like 
that !  Please,  please  don't !  " 

Just  for  one  instant  Beatrix  allowed  her  companion 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  strain  under  which  she  was 
laboring.  "  How  else  should  I  talk  ? "  she  said, 
sharply.  "  Do  you  think  I'm  going  about  with  my 

tail   down   like   a   whipped   dog ?     Run   along, 

Brownie,  run  along  like  a  good  little  soul  and  do  this 
thing  for  me.  In  the  meantime  I'll  get  up.  I  feel  in 
my  bones  that  things  are  going  to  happen  to-day. 
Thank  Heaven  I'm  on  the  top  of  my  form,  ready  for 


SCANDAL  119 

anything  and  everybody,  even  Franklin.  We  do  man- 
age to  live,  you  and  I,  don't  we?  " 

She  escorted  the  amiable,  fluttering  woman  to  the 
door  and  closed  it  upon  her,  quite  certain  that  she 
would  return  with  full  information.  If  there  was  one 
thing  in  which  Mrs.  Lester  Keene  was  really  proficient 
it  was  in  spying  out  the  lay  of  the  land. 

While  bathing  in  the  pool  whose  hideous  Byzantine 
decorations  were  never  more  inappropriate  than  when 
they  made  a  background  for  that  sweet,  slim  form, 
Beatrix  ran  her  mind  over  the  position.  She  felt  con- 
vinced that  Franklin,  angry  and  disgusted  as  he  was, 
would  continue  to  play  up  until  he  had  her  permission 
to  give  away  the  game.  She  knew  a  sportsman  when 
she  saw  one.  But  she  knew  also,  instinctively,  that  he 
was  a  poor  liar,  and  if, —  as  was  quite  likely, —  Aunt 
Honoria  and  her  mother  had  been  pumping  him  during 
the  morning  as  to  when  the  marriage  took  place  and 
for  the  other  details  of  this  great  romance,  he  had 
probably  made  a  very  poor  showing.  There  might 
have  been  inconvenient  questions  asked  by  her  father 
as  to  settlements,  and  so  forth.  If  so,  she  could  im- 
agine how  badly  Franklin  had  come  out  without  her 
at  his  side  to  prompt  and  evade  and  put  tangents  into 
the  conversation.  She  was  anxious  and  owned  to 
it. 

When  Mrs.  Lester  Keene  returned  to  the  bedroom, 
slipping  into  it  with  an  air  of  almost  comic  mystery, 
she  was  surprised  to  find  Beatrix  fully  dressed  and 
swinging  up  and  down  the  room  impatiently  like  a 
boy. 


120  SCANDAL 

"  What  news  on  the  Rialto?  "  she  cried,  with  a  touch 
of  burlesque  in  her  voice. 

There  was  a  very  serious  and  even  scared  look  on 
Brownie's  face.  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  listen !  I 
fear  that  the  worst  has  happened,"  In  a  sort  of  way, 
Mrs,  Keene  reveled  in  the  drama  of  it  all.  "  Mr. 
Franklin  was  the  first  guest  in  the  breakfast-room. 
He  was  very  quiet  and  short  with  the  servants.  He 
drank  two  cups  of  coffee  and  ate  hardly  anything.  He 
was  joined  on  the  veranda  by  your  father  and  they 
walked  up  and  down  together  talking  earnestly  for 
thirty-six;  minutes.  They  were  then  sent  for  by  Aunt 
Honoria.  They  have  been  closeted " 

"  Closeted  is  excellent,"  said  Beatrix.  "  Well  done, 
Brownie!  I  thought  so,"  she  added  mentally,  with  a 
sharp  intake  of  breath- 

"  They  have  been  in  Miss  Honoria's  room, —  your 
mother  was  there  too, —  until  about  ten  minutes  ago, 
when  Mr.  Franklin  came  out  alone,  hurried  down- 
stairs and  out  on  the  veranda,  kicking  one  of  the  cane 
chairs  on  his  way  into  the  garden.  My  dear,  God  only 
knows  what  took  place  in  that  interview!  Your 
father,  Aunt  Honoria  and  your  mother  are  still  talking. 
I  don't  understand  —  I  really  utterly  fail  to  compre- 
hend how  you  can  stand  there  with  that  smile  on  your 
face,  being  in  the  midst  of  what  seems  to  me  to  be  a 
very  terrible  situation." 

Beatrix  whistled  a  little  tune  to  keep  up  her  courage, 
sat  on  the  edge  of  a  heavily  carved  table  and  swung  her 
legs.  "Well,  what  would  you  have  me  do?"  she 
asked,  with  consummate  coolness.  "  Stand  on  my 


SCANDAL  121 

head,  wail  like  one  of  the  fat  ladies  in  Tristan  and 
Isolde,  or  sink  back  on  the  sofa  in  an  attitude  of  Early 
Victorian  despair?  "  She  got  up  and  walked  to  one  of 
the  open  windows  and  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  sun 
as  though  to  get  a  little  necessary  warmth  and  sym- 
pathy. Then  she  went  back  to  the  table  and  looked 
rather  eagerly  and  girlishly  at  her  altogether  useless 
but  very  faithful  friend.  "  What  d'you  think  it  all 
means,  Brownie  dear?" 

Mrs.  Lester  Keene  gave  the  question  her  serious  con- 
sideration. She  was  one  of  those  Women  who  looked 
most  ludicrous  when  most  worried.  "  If  you  ask  me," 
she  said,  "  I  believe  that  Mr.  Franklin  has  given  you 
away  and  told  the  truth." 

This  answer  came  as  rather  a  shock  to  Beatrix, 
but  only  for  a  moment.  "  Well,  I  don't,"  she  said. 
"Shall  I  tell  you  why?" 

"  Indeed  I  wish  you  would." 

"If  Franklin  had  given  me  away  he  wouldn't  have 
kicked  that  cane  chair." 

Brownie  gave  another  gesture  of  despair.  "  If  only 
you  had  it  in  you  to  take  things  seriously." 

"  Seriously !  You  dear  old  thing,  I'm  most  serious. 
I  have  every  reason  to  be.  But  that  was  a  fine  piece 
of  deduction  and  my  spirits  have  gone  up  with  a  rush. 
I'm  now  going  to  find  Franklin,  and  I'll  bet  you  a 
diamond  bracelet  that  he  has  stood  by  me  like  a  Trojan 
and  is  as  angry  as  a  caged  hawk.  Now,  the  all-im- 
portant point  is  this :  What  hat  shall  I  wear, —  a  sim- 
ple, naive,  garden  thing,  or  this  sophisticated  effort  ?  I 
must  please  his  eye." 


122  SCANDAL 

"  Wear  the  smart  hat,"  said  Mrs.  Keene. 

Beatrix  wore  the  other.  That  almost  went  without 
saying. 

She  sang  on  her  way  down-stairs.  She  chose  San- 
tuzza's  song  from  Cavalleria,  which  she  ragged  in 
the  most  masterly  manner.  She  did  this  to  give  the 
impression,  to  anyone  who  might  hear  her,  of  light- 
heartedness.  Her  lithe,  young,  white-clad  figure  was 
reflected  by  many  mirrors  as  she  passed.  She  made 
sure  that  none  of  her  people  were  in  the  hall,  and  then 
darted  out  to  the  veranda  to  look  for  Franklin.  The 
members  of  the  house-party  had  dispersed  to  pass  the 
morning  away  in  tennis  and  with  the  rehearsals  for 
the  pastoral.  She  could  see  a  number  of  people  under 
the  trees  to  the  left.  She  swung  round  the  veranda, 
walking  on  the  balls  of  her  feet  like  a  young  Diana, 
singing  as  she  went,  but  darting  quick,  anxious  glances 
to  the  right  and  left.  There  was  no  Syign  of  Franklin. 
She  was  about  to  make  her  way  through  the  Dutch 
garden,  all  aflame  with  flowers,  to  the  summer-house 
which  overlooked  the  Sound  shining  beneath  the  sun, 
when  a  footman  came  out  carrying  one  of  her  mother's 
petulant  spaniels. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  where  Mr.  Franklin  is  ?  " 
she  asked,  pulling  up  short. 

"  Yes,  madam." 

The  word  made  her  heart  pump.  "  Well, — 
where  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Franklin  ordered  his  car  round  ten  min- 
utes agOj  madam,  and  has;  driven  off  to  New 
.York," 


SCANDAL  123 

New  York !  Then  he  had  given  her  away,  after  all, 
and  left  her  in  the  lurch.  What  on  earth  was  she  going 
to  do  now  ? 


XI 

IT  was  twenty  minutes  to  one  when  Franklin  brought 
his  car  to  a  stop  at  the  Willow  Tree  Club  in  West 
Fifty-seventh  Street.  Malcolm  usually  dropped  in  to 
this  rendezvous  of  writing  men,  artists  and  good  fel- 
lows generally  to  read  the  papers,  about  midday. 
There  was  more  than  a  chance  that  he  might  be  lunch- 
ing there. 

The  city  lay  weltering  under  a  pall  of  humidity.  As 
about  a  great  hive  the  people  moved  like  tired  bees. 
Flags  lay  comatose  around  their  posts,  striped  awnings 
hung  limply  above  the  windows  of  those  unhappy  souls 
who  could  not  get  away,  and  the  buildings  which 
reared  their  heads  up  to  the  sky  seemed  to  perspire. 

Franklin  enquired  for  his  friend  at  the  office,  was 
told  that  he  had  been  in  but  had  left  half  an  hour 
before,  murmured  a  mere  second-grade  oath,  and  being 
a  member  of  the  club  himself,  went  into  the  reading 
room.  He  remembered  that  he  needed  certain  things 
from  Spaldings',  especially  flies,  and  knowing  from 
long  experience  that  he  had  better  not  trust  to  his  mem- 
ory, decided  to  write  a  brief  letter,  then  and  there. 

A  pale  man  was  sitting  within  easy  reach  of  the 
long  magazine  table.  He  looked  up  with  the  slightly 
antagonistic  expression  characteristic  of  men  in  clubs 
who  have  had  a  room  to  themselves,  and  wondered 


SCANDAL  125 

what  sort  of  lucky  creature  the  interloper  was  who 
could  afford  to  achieve  such  a  superb  tan  in  a  world  of 
work  and  effort. 

Franklin  caught  his  eye,  registered  the  fact  that  he 
had  never  seen  him  before  and  didn't  much  care  if  he 
never  did  again,  and  sat  down  at  a  writing  table  be- 
hind a  book-case  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 

After  a  few  moments  he  was  aware  of  the  entrance 
of  someone  else  because  the  pale  man  sang  out  a  greet^- 
ing,  but  he  had  concentrated  on  his  list  and  what  was 
said  didn't  reach  him.  He  searched  his  brain  for 
everything  that  he  needed  in  the  way  of  flies  and 
tackle,  endeavored  to  make  his  writing  more  legible 
than  it  usually  was  and  was  about  to  address  the 
envelope  when  he  caught  the  name  of  Vanderdyke.  It 
was  not  so  much  the  mention  of  the  name  that  made 
him  prick  up  his  ears  as  the  rather  ribald  tone  in  which 
it  was  said. 

"  I  was  surprised  to  read  all  that  glorification  in  this 
morning's  papers,"  he  heard.  "  Gossip  had  it  that  you 
were  very  much  in  the  running,  York." 

"  I  ?  Oh,  no,  my  dear  fellow.  I  had  never  entered 
in  the  matrimonial  stakes  for  that  girl." 

"  Why  not  ?  Beatrix  Vanderdyke  was  worth  win- 
ning, surely  ?  Money  to  burn,  beauty,  youth, —  what 
else  do  you  want?  " 

"  I'm  not  a  marrying  man.  As  they  will  be  pretty 
certain  to  say  in  my  obituary  notices,  I  am  '  wedded 
to  my  art/  Besides,  my  dear  fellow,  I  have  the  fortu- 
nate knack  of  getting  what  I  want  without  the  consent 
of  the  parson."  There  was  the  kind  of  snigger  that 


126  SCANDAL 

only  comes  from  men  who  belong  to  the  lady-killer 
tribe. 

That,  and  the  gross  innuendo  that  preceded  it,  car- 
ried Franklin  to  his  feet.  The  lust  to  hit  had  seized 
him.  He  stalked  round  the  book-case  into  the  middle 
of  the  room.  His  hands  were  clenched  and  he  was 
breathing  deeply  like  a  man  who  had  been  running. 
He  recognized  in  the  tall,  red-tied,  flamboyant  person 
the  man  with  whom  he  had  seen  Beatrix  that  night 
when  he  had  left  the  apartment  house  with  Malcolm 
Eraser. 

"  I  was  luckily  in  a  position  to  overhear  your  re- 
mark," he  said  quietly.  "  I'm  Franklin.  Miss  Van 
derdyke  is  my  wife." 

The  pale  man  drew  in  his  breath,  and  a  look  of  ex- 
citement and  pleasure  flashed  into  his  eyes.  The  one 
thing  that  made  him  feel  that  he  had  any  blood  was  a 
fight. 

Sutherland  York  recovered  himself  quickly.  But  for 
the  slight  suggestion  of  whiteness  about  his  mouth  he 
seemed  to  be  perfectly  at  ease  and  nonchalant.  "  I'm 
glad  that  you're  glad,"  he  said,  with  a  polite  smile. 
"  Permit  me  to  offer  my  congratulations  upon  your 
very  sudden  and  romantic  marriage." 

Franklin  went  a  step  or  two  nearer.  "If  you  were 
not  such  a  fat,  unmuscular  brute,"  he  said,  slowly,  and 
with  the  most  careful  distinctness,  "  if  I  shouldn't  be 
laying  myself  open  to  a  charge  of  cruelty  to  animals, 
I'd  thrash  you  until  you  blubbered  for  mercy."  He  put 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.  "  Even  if  I  did,  it  would 
have  very  little  effect,  except  to  send  you  to  the  dentist 


SCANDAL  127 

and  the  beauty  doctor.  Your  sort  of  liar  is  never 
properly  cured." 

He  waited  for  a  moment,  obviously  to  give  the 
famous  artist  a  chance  to  revenge  himself  in  some  way 
for  the  insult  that  he  had  deliberately  made  as  strong 
as  he  could. 

And  the  pale  man  eyed  York  expectantly,  eagerly. 

But  York  still  smiled,  although  the  whites  of  his 
eyes  took  on  a  strange  yellow  tinge.  "  I  regret  that  I 
do  not  possess  the  gift,"  he  said,  with  a  little  bow, 
"  of  making  suitable  tu  quoque  to  cave-men." 

Whereupon  Franklin  burst  into  a  laugh,  turned  and 
went  out. 

The  pale  man  flung  his  magazine  away.  He  re- 
sented being  done  out  of  legitimate  excitement. 

"  A  curiously  uncivilized  person,"  said  York,  putting 
a  shaky  hand  up  to  his  vivid  tie.  "  Come  to  lunch, 
my  dear  fellow." 

"  Thanks,  no ;  I'm  lunching  at  the  Biltmore,"  said 
the  pale  man,  shortly. 

It  was  when  the  portrait  painter  found  himself  alone 
that  the  veneer  fell  from  him  like  the  silver  paper  from 
a  cheap  cigar.  His  face  swelled  and  grew  red. 
"  Curse  these  two  autocrats,"  he  cried  inwardly.  "  I 
owed  her  something.  Now  he's  added  to  the  debt. 
Married,  are  they?  By  God,  we'll  see  about  that. 
Scandal?  Ah,  that's  where  /  come  in." 

Franklin  drove  home,  and  gave  his  goggles  to  the 
chauffeur. 

"  Keep  the  car  here,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  probably  want 
her  again.  But  come  up  and  get  something  to  eat." 


128  SCANDAL 

It  was  something  to  drink  that  O'Connor  wanted, 
but  he  showed  his  excellent  teeth  in  appreciation  of 
the  thought  and  made  things  ship-shape. 

The  over-uniformed  elevator  man  in  the  hall  of  the 
apartment-house,  which  couldn't  have  been  more  pomp- 
ous and  imposing  if  it  had  been  that  of  an  embassy  or  a 
moving-picture  palace,  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise 
at  the  sight  of  Franklin.  "  Didn't  expect  to  see  you 
here,  sir,"  he  said,  with  that  nice  touch  of  deferential 
camaraderie  that  is  characteristic  of  all  elevator  men 
in  apartment  houses  where  rents  are  so  prohibitive  that 
they  can  boast  of  a  waiting  list. 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  be  here,"  said  Franklin. 

"  No,  I  s'pose  not,  Well,  is  this  hot  enough  for 
you,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mind  it.  Do  you  know  if  Mr.  Fraser  is 
in?" 

"  Mr.  Fraser  ?  Yes,  sir.  I  took  him  up  awhile  ago. 
He  went  out  early." 

Franklin  nodded,  got  out  and  rang  the  bell.  He 
had  forgotten  his  latch-key  as  usual.  The  elevator 
man  stood  hesitating  for  a  moment.  His  smile  was 
so  beaming  that  instinctively  Franklin  knew  that  if 
his  door  wasn't  opened  quickly  he  would  be  obliged  to 
reply  to  very  much  undesired  congratulations.  The 
thing  was  all  over  the  earth  by  that  time,  of  course. 
The  door  opened  at  the  psychological  moment,  how- 
ever, and  Franklin  was  spared.  All  the  same,  he 
turned  before  he  went  in,  gave  the  man  a  nod,  said, 
"  Thanks,  all  the  same,"  and  exchanged  a  very  human 
smile.  Good  fellows,  both. 


SCANDAL  129 

The  man  who  opened  the  door  was  unable  to  refrain 
from  raising  his  well-trained  eyebrows,  and  his  lips, 
too,  shaped  themselves  for  felicitations.  But  Franklin 
gave  him  his  hat  and  said :  "  Tell  Mrs.  Romanes  that 
I  shall  want  lunch."  And  then  let  out  a  loud  and  ring- 
ing shout  of  "  Who's  aboard?  " 

Malcolm  Fraser,  who  was  sitting  under  an  electric 
fan  in  a  suit  of  white  duck,  sprang  to  hjs  feet.  "  Good 
Lord!  "  he  said  to  himself,  "what  the— — " 

Franklin  turned  at  the  door.  "  And,  Johnson,"  he 
called  out,  "  bring  me  a  claret  and  seltzer !  Sharp's 
the  word,"  He  glanced  at  the  evening  paper  in 
Fraser's  hand  and  gave  a  snort.  There  it  was.  Oh, 
Lord,  yes!  In  huge  letters  half-way  down  the  front 
page.  Far  bigger  than  would  have  been  given  to  an 
ordinary  war,  or  the  discovery  of  a  genuine  cure 
for  consumption.  Photographs  of  bride  and  bride- 
groom, too,  of  course,  twined  together  with  flourishing 
lines  and  love-knots  and  orange  blossoms. 

Fraser  shaped  his  lips. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Malcolm,"  said  Franklin,  grimly, 
"  if  you  say  it, —  one  word  of  it, —  I'll  heave  this  chair 
at  your  head.  All  the  same,  I'm  darned  glad  you're 
in,  old  man.  I  never  needed  your  level  head  so  much 
on  earth." 

An  anxious  look  came  into  Fraser's  blue  and  pal- 
pably incorruptible  eyes.  "  Why  ?  There's  nothing 
wrong,  is  there  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing  wrong! " 

But  Johnson,  who  had  dropped  his  usual  heavy  dig- 
nity in  the  excitement  of  the  moment  and  really  moved, 


I3o  SCANDAL 

came  in  with  the  claret  and  seltzer  and  Franklin  cut 
his  remark  short,  took  the  refreshing-looking  drink 
and  gave  the  glass  back. 

With  his  scrupulously  clean-shaven  and  almost  cleri- 
cal face  wreathed  in  smiles,  Johnson  spoke :  "  Will 
you  allow  me,  sir,  to  offer  you " 

Franklin  jumped  in  quickly.  "  Yes,  thank  you, 
Johnson.  Very  much  obliged.  Leave  the  tray  here." 

"  Very  good,  sir."  Johnson  was  hurt.  He  had 
framed  what  he  considered  to  be  a  fine  flowing  sen- 
tence. It  seemed  a  pity  that  he  should  not  have  been 
permitted  to  give  it  full  utterance.  On  his  way  to  the 
door  he  resumed  his  usual  iciness. 

Franklin  put  two  chairs  close  to  the  window.  "  Sit 
down,  old  man,"  he  said,  "  and  listen  to  this." 


XII 

BEATRIX  had  courage.  Instead  of  shutting  herself 
up  in  her  suite  of  rooms  and  hiding  behind  the  excuse 
of  a  headache  until  her  family  disclosed  to  her  the 
present  condition  of  affairs,  she  took  her  place  in  the 
rehearsals  for  the  pastoral,  was  highly  entertained  by 
the  airs  of  the  matinee  idol,  and  presently  met  her 
mother  and  father  and  Aunt  Honoria  at  luncheon,  with 
her  head  as  high  as  ever  and  laughter  dancing  in  her 
eyes. 

Imagine  her  relief  when  she  found  her  mother  cor- 
dial, her  father  affectionate  and  Aunt  Honoria  pecul- 
iarly gracious.  Obviously  Franklin  had  not  given  her 
away.  She  was  still  the  heroine  of  this  family  drama. 
Up  went  her  spirits.  Optimism  came  back  like  the  sun 
after  a  storm,  and  living  once  more  for  the  moment  and 
leaving  the  immediate  future  on  the  knees  of  the  gods 
she  became  the  life  and  soul  of  the  house-party,  teasing 
the  matinee  idol,  complimenting  the  producer,  saying 
little  deferential  things  to  her  aunt,  and  playing  the 
game  of  badinage  with  the  guests  with  all  the  finish  and 
daring  of  a  champion. 

Reaction  set  in  early  in  the  afternoon.  She  was 
tired.  The  strain  of  living  over  a  mine  began  to  tell. 
Mrs.  Lester  Keene's  continual  questions  as  to  where 
Franklin  was  and  why  he  had  gone  to  town  got  on  hep 


132  SCANDAL 

nerves.  And  so,  leaving  Brownie  on  the  veranda  as  a 
spy,  she  went  to  her  rooms,  gave  orders  that  she  was 
not  to  be  disturbed  and  composed  herself  to  sleep  like 
a  crown  princess  of  a  fictitious  kingdom. 

It  was  a  little  after  four  o'clock  when  Mrs.  Keene 
fluttered  in,  in  a  high  state  of  excitement.  She  found 
Beatrix  half -awake  and  half -asleep  lying  on  her 
pompous  bed  in  the  most  charming  dishabille,  with 
a  little  flush  on  her  lovely  face  like  the  pink  of  apple 
blossoms. 

"  My  dear,  my  dear ! "  Said  Mrs.  Keene,  bending 
over  her.  "  Mr.  Franklin  has  just  come  back." 

"  Who  has  just  come  back,  Brownie?  " 

"  Mr.  Franklin, —  who  else  ?  "  Sometimes  this  pa- 
tient woman  held  that  she  had  every  right  to  show  a 
touch  of  exasperation. 

"  Oh,  yes, —  Franklin,  the  sportsman,"  said  Beatrix. 
"  Heigh-ho !  I've  been  dreaming  of  dancing.  I  in- 
vented a  new  fox-trot  and  I  danced  it  with  Maurice 
for  an  hour.  The  band  was  perfect." 

"  Mr.  Franklin  glared  at  me  and  went  up  to  his 
room.  I  didn't  like  the  expression  on  his  face  at  all. 
Do  please  get  up,  dear.  Now,  please  do !  " 

Beatrix  heaved  a  sigh,  sat  up,  remained  thinking  for 
several  moments  with  her  hands  clasped  about  her 
knees,  and  then  sprang  out  of  bed.  "  Action ! "  she 
said.  "  Action !  Call  Helene,  please,  Brownie.  I'm 
seized  with  an  insatiable  curiosity  to  find  out  what's 
happened.  Really  and  truly,  if  I  had  consulted  a 
specialist  in  the  art  of  providing  amusement  for  blase 
people  he  couldn't  possibly  have  devised  a  more  won- 


SCANDAL  133 

derful  scheme  than  mine  for  making  life  worth  liv- 
ing. Now,  Helene,  pull  yourself  together.  Brownie 
dear,  ring  down  for  a  cup  of  tea.  All  hands  clear 
for  action ! " 

They  did  so  to  such  good  purpose, —  Mrs.  Keene 
bustling  herself  into  a  state  of  hysterical  agitation,  and 
Helene  into  breathlessness, —  that  barely  half-an-hour 
later  Beatrix,  in  a  new  and  delicious  frock,  sailed  down- 
stairs, was  told  that  Mr.  Franklin  had  gone  to  the 
summer-house  and  followed  him,  humming  a  little 
tune.  She  came  upon  him  standing  with  his  hands 
thrust  deep  into  his  pockets  and  his  eyes  on  the  horizon. 

"  I  knew  I  should  find  you  here,"  she  said,  in  a 
ringing  voice.  "  Good  afternoon!  How  d'you  do?  '* 

Franklin  turned  and  looked  at  her,  and  as  he  did 
so  Malcolm  Fraser's  outburst  came  back  into  his  mind. 
What  a  charming  child  she  must  have  been  before 
the  spoiling  process  had  had  time  to  take  its  full  effect ! 
What  a  high-spirited,  insolent,  beautiful,  untamed 
thing  she  was  now  with  the  world  at  her  feet.  "  Good 
afternoon !  "  he  answered,  with  a  curious  quickening  of 
his  pulse. 

"  p.on't  you  love  the  view  here?  It's  wonderful. 
I  always  come  and  drink  it  in  when  I  feel  the  need  of 
being  soothed." 

"  That's  why  you've  come  now,  I  suppose,'*  said 
Franklin,  drily. 

"  No.  I'm  utterly  unruffled  and  at  peace  with  the 
world," 

"  May  J  say  '  I  don't  believe  you '  without  hurting 
your  feelings? " 


I34  SCANDAL 

"  Surely,"  said  Beatrix.  "  Say  anything  you  like. 
It's  a  free  country, —  a  little  too  free  perhaps."  She 
bent  down  and  picked  a  rose-bud  and  put  it  to  her 
lips. 

"  Very  good.  Then  I'll  add  this  at  once.  I  haven't 
wasted  time  since  I  saw  you  last." 

"  Oh,  how  pleasant  to  think  that  I've  had  a  good 
effect  upon  you,"  she  said,  with  a  mischievous  smile. 
"  You  have  the  reputation  of  being  a  past-master  in 
the  art  of  wasting  time." 

Franklin  ignored  the  remark,  although  he  noticed 
that  she  had  two  of  the  most  ravishing  dimples  he  had 
ever  seen.  "  You  may  not  know  it,  but  this  morning 
I  went  through  a  pretty  bad  hour  with  your  people.  I 
didn't  actually  lie  to  them,  but  I  managed  with  a  great 
effort  not  to  tell  them  anything  that  was  true." 

"  Then  I  win  my  bet,"  said  Beatrix. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  It  doesn't  matter.  Tell  me  more.  You  interest 
me." 

"  That's  good,"  said  Franklin,  with  a  sort  of  laugh. 
"  After  that, —  and  I  dare  say  this  is  also  news  to 
you, —  I  drove  to  town  to  get  advice.  The  end  of 
it  all  is  that  there's  only  one  way  in  which  you  and  I 
can  bring  this  farce  to  an  end." 

"  No,  no ! "  cried  Beatrix,  with  mock  horror  at  the 
word,  "  not  farce, —  comedy,  please." 

Franklin  would  have  given  nearly  all  he  possessed 
for  the  pleasure  of  spanking  that  young  woman  until 
she  cried  for  mercy.  As  it  was,  he  pitched  away  his 
cigarette,  waited  until  the  echo  of  her  voice  had  died 


"  It  won't  be  many  days  before  we  find  scandal  rearing 
its  head  at  us."     Page  135. 


SCANDAL  135 

away,  and  faced  her  up.  "  Now  listen ! "  he  said, 
sharply,  "  and  if  you  are  capable  of  it  give  some  con- 
sideration to  me  and  my  life  and  to  the  gravity  of  my 
position  and  yours." 

Beatrix  waved  her  hand. 

"  We've  got  to  go  off  at  once,"  said  Franklin,  giv- 
ing each  word  its  full  importance, — "  somewhere  or 
other,  I  don't  know  where, —  and  get  married." 

Beatrix  almost  jumped  out  of  her  skin. 

Franklin  went  on  quickly.  "  For  this  reason : 
I  saw  Sutherland  York  this  morning  at  the  club.  It 
was  perfectly  obvious  that  he  intends  to  make  you  pay 
fully  for  something  that  you  did  to  him.  From  his 
manner  and  his  infernal  cheek  I  gathered  that  he  has 
seen  through  the  whole  of  this  business,  and  he's  going 
to  spread  it  about  that  this  is  a  bluff.  He  knows  how 
to  do  this  sort  of  thing  better  than  most  men,  I  judge, 
and  it  won't  be  many  days  before  we  find  scandal  rear- 
ing its  head  at  us.  Therefore,  we  must  become  at  once 
what  you  said  we  were, —  married.  I'm  sorry,  but 
there's  no  way  out.  That  over,  you  will  go  your 
way  and  I  mine,  and  from  the  moment  that  we  sep- 
arate I  will  proceed  to  do  that  disgusting  thing  which 
the  laws  make  necessary  for  a  man  who  wishes  to  be 
divorced  from  his  wife.  You  will  please  be  good 
enough  to  make  your  plans  to  leave  here  not  later 
than  to-morrow.  Some  other  girl  must  take  your 
part  in  the  pastoral." 

"  Impossible,"  said  Beatrix,  quietly. 

"Why?" 

"  Simply  because  it  is.     I'm  going  to  play  that  part 


136  SCANDAL 

and  I'm  going  to  look  very  nice  in  the  clothes.  Also, 
I'm  looking  forward  to  a  great  deal  of  fun  with  the 
matinee  idol,  shaved  or  unshaved." 

Franklin  whipped  round  upon  her.  "  It  isn't  for 
you  to  say  what  you'll  do  or  not  do.  For  your  sake, 
as  well  as  for  mine,  I  must  take  charge  of  this  business, 
and  you'll  please  carry  out  my  orders." 

"  Orders !  "  She  threw  up  her  head.  "  That's  a 
word  that  isn't  and  never  will  be  contained  in  my 
dictionary." 

"  You're  wrong.  I've  just  added  it  to  that  vol- 
ume," he  said. 

Beatrix  gave  a  big  laugh  and  stood  up  to  him  with 
her  chin  tilted,  her  eyes  dancing  and  a  look  of  triumph 
all  over  her  lovely  face.  "  Take  charge  —  you!  "  she 
cried.  "  Think  again.  The  whip  is  in  my  hand  now 
and  I  shall  use  it.  You  dare  not  give  me  away. 
You're  afraid  of  the  laughter  that  will  follow  you 
wherever  you  go.  I  think  you're  right.  But, —  as 
to  being  your  wife,  not  in  this  world,  my  good  sir,  for 
any  reason  that  you  can  name.  I'd  rather  die." 

And  then  she  turned  on  her  heel  and  swung  away, 
with  the  roses  seeming  to  bend  towards  her  as  she 
went. 

Franklin  watched  her,  with  his  hands  clenched  and 
his  mouth  set.  "  By  God,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  we'll 
see  about  that!"  And  he  would  have  added  more 
angry  words,  thickly,  to  his  mental  outburst,  if  a  new 
feeling, —  bewildering,  painful,  intoxicating, —  had  not 
welled  up  to  his  heart.  All  round  him,  as  he  stood 
there  in  amazement,  the  air  seemed  to  be  filled  with 


SCANDAL  137 

the  song  of  birds.  Then  it  came  to  him, —  the  an- 
swer to  the  question  he  had  put  to  himself  impatiently 
and  jealously  in  his  apartment  in  New  York  after 
Malcolm  Fraser's  little  story.  "  I'm  going  to  begin 
to  live  —  I've  met  the  woman  who  can  make  me  give 
up  freedom  and  peace  of  mind,  take  me  to  Heaven  or 
draw  me  down  into  Hell ! " 


XIII 

THAT  rather  charming  haphazard  air  that  is  char- 
acteristic of  afternoon  tea  in  an  English  country 
house,  to  which  young  people  from  the  tennis  courts 
and  golf  links  slack  in  just  as  they  are  and  find  the 
hostess  presiding  at  a  substantial  table,  assisted  by  all 
the  younger  men  who  are  born  to  carry  cups  and  cake 
—  they  always  dance  and  generally  play  the  piano  — 
was  missing  from  the  West  Terrace  of  the  Vander- 
dyke  mansion.  Mrs.  Vanderdyke  "  dressed  "  for  tea. 
Her  costume  was  a  very  beautiful  and  pompous  affair, 
not  cut  low  enough  for  dinner  or  for  breakfast  but 
quite  low  enough  for  the  theatre,  and  she  wore  a 
considerable  quantity  of  jewels.  Brilliantly  made  up, 
she  sat  under  the  awning  with  her  back  to  the  sun 
chatting  with  royal  condescension  and  studied  charm. 
It  was  one  of  the  best  things  that  she  did.  It  was 
also  her  first  public  appearance  of  the  day,  most  of 
which  had  been  devoted  to  a  hard,  stern  and  success- 
ful fight  against  Anno  Domini. 

She  was  surrounded  by  members  of  the  house  party 
who  took  themselves  and  her  seriously  and  she,  and 
they,  were  under  the  expert  attention  of  several  foot- 
men. Carefully  chosen  for  their  height  and  gravity 
and  truth  to  type,  these  men  wore  a  very  distinguished 
livery  with  knee  breeches  and  black  silk  stockings, 


SCANDAL  139 

and  they  hovered  from  person  to  person  with  a  rather 
soothing  quietude,  moved  by  invisible  machinery. 

The  vivacious  little  Mrs.  Edgar  Lee  Reeves  who 
talked  continuously  of  "  my  daughter  Lady  Bram- 
shaw  and  that  sweet  old  place  in  Hampshire  "  was 
purring  under  the  attentions  of  Admiral  De  Forrest 
Wontner.  Although  a  grandmother,  an  event  of 
which  she  spoke  as  if  it  were  rather  a  malicious  lie, 
Mrs.  Reeves  looked  like  a  very  young,  blond,  motion 
picture  star  who  tames  cave-men  and  broncho-busters 
with  just  one  quick  upward  glance.  Her  laughter 
bubbled  like  boiling  water  and  at  odd  moments  she 
clapped  her  hands  and  opened  her  blue  eyes  very  wide 
and  pursed  up  her  little  red  mouth.  Of  her  tiny 
ankles  she  was  very  proud  and  hardly  ever  forgot  to 
expose  them.  She  underlined  most  of  her  words 
with  gushing  emphasis  and  everything,  from  a  sunset 
to  a  new  soap,  was  "perfectly  wonderful."  Wont- 
ner and  she  had  been  engaged  to  be  married  after  a 
dance  at  Annapolis  somewhere  in  the  seventies,  but 
while  he  was  at  sea  on  his  first  commission,  Ettie 
Stanton  met,  danced  and  ran  away  with  young  E.  La 
Reeves  of  Baltimore  and  remained  "  terribly  crazy  " 
about  him  to  the  day  of  his  death.  It  was  indeed 
a  peculiarly  happy  marriage,  blessed  with  three  fine 
manly  boys  and  a  girl  who  was  always  being  mis- 
taken for  her  mother.  And  now  the  retired  sea-dog, 
celebrated  for  his  early  Victorian  gallantry,  one  of 
the  few  remaining  bucks  in  the  country  and  a  man  of 
wit,  chivalry  and  golden  heart,  carried  on  a  St.  Mar- 
tin's summer  flirtation  ,  with  his  former  sweetheart, 


140  SCANDAL 

the  very  sight  of  whom  dispelled  his  accumulation  of 
years  as  the  sun  scatters  the  dew.  Most  people  were 
amused  at  the  affair  and  several  were  sympathetic. 

Talking  to  Mrs.  Vanderdyke,  or  rather  listening 
to  Mrs.  Vanderdyke,  who  either  talked  or  went  into  a 
trance,  was  handsome  Percy  Campbell,  the  man  who 
drank  a  bottle  of  whiskey  before  breakfast  and  played 
golf  all  day  in  order  to  drink  another  before  going  to 
bed.  He  owned  three  streets  in  New  York;  he  had 
never  done  anything  more  serious  than  learn  to  play  the 
violin,  about  which  he  talked  to  everybody.  He  was 
now  dangerously  near  fifty-three  but  since  passing  out 
of  Harvard  he  had  not  found  time  to  practise  more 
than  a  dozen  times.  He  carried  three  beautiful 
Strads  wherever  he  went,  however,  and  whenever  he 
became  genuinely  fuddled  motored  to  the  nearest 
town,  day  or  night,  to  buy  a  new  stack  of  strings  and 
rosin.  His  wife  went  with  him  as  well  as  his  violins 
and  received  much  less  consideration  although  many 
more  cases.  They  were  popular  people  and  Camp- 
bell's shooting  box  in  Scotland  near  Cupar,  Fife,  from 
which  his  remote  ancestors  strayed,  was  always  full. 
No  altogether  Scot  could  compete  with  him  in  his 
devotion  to  the  national  beverage. 

Then  there  were  Mrs.  Lucas  D.  Osterpath,  in 
mourning  for  her  son  who  had  just  married  a  Folly 
from  the  New  Amsterdam  Theatre  roof;  the  Wil- 
liam Bannermans,  recently  remarried  after  a  most 
amusing  divorce;  Philip  Kawbro  in  his  inevitable  blue 
and  white  striped  collar  and  yellow  waistcoat;  Regina 
Westerhaus,  as  regal  as  her  name,  but  still  a  spinster 


SCANDAL  141 

at  the  end  of  three  seasons,  and  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Claude 
Larpent,  the  centre  of  attraction  for  those  three  vieux 
marcheurs,  Major  Thresher,  Roger  Peek  and  Court- 
ney Borner. 

The  young  people  avoided  this  function  and  got 
whatever  refreshment  they  needed  from  the  bachelors' 
house. 

It  was  to  this  terrace  that  Beatrix  made  her  way 
after  flinging  her  triumphant  refusal  at  Franklin. 
All  the  elation  of  a  victor  ran  through  her  veins. 
What  did  she  care  about  the  possibility  either  of  being 
blackmailed  or  shown  up  by  Sutherland  York?  Why 
should  she  give  the  smallest  consideration  to  Pelham 
Franklin  or  join  him  in  any  plan  to  save  his  name 
from  scandal?  He  had  said  an  unforgivable  thing 
to  her  in  her  bedroom  that  memorable  night,  the  sting 
of  which  still  made  her  smart.  She  gloried  in  hav- 
ing been  able  to  make  him  pay  something  on  account 
of  that  huge  debt  and  with  characteristic  high-handed- 
ness turned  a  Nelsonian  eye  to  the  black  cloud  that 
was  moving  up  over  the  horizon.  She  had  always 
taken  chances.  It  was  part  and  parcel  of  her  nature. 
With  a  growing  sense  of  exhilaration  and  the  feeling 
that  she  was  merely  at  the  beginning  of  a  great  ad- 
venture she  took  a  chance  again.  If  the  storm  was 
fated  to  burst  and  Franklin  gave  her  away  to  her 
parents,  well,  let  it  burst.  There  would  be  an  epoch- 
making  family  row,  and  unless  her  wits  protected  her 
again  she  would  be  sent  into  the  back  of  beyond. 
That  was  an  appalling  prospect  which,  however,  she 
pushed  aside.  She  trusted  to  her  usual  luck  to  carry 


142  SCANDAL 

her  out  of  this  tangle,  if  only  by  the  skin  of  her  teeth. 
The  great  point  at  the  moment  was  that  she  had  scored 
over  Franklin  and  left  him  impotent.  But  for  that 
parting  remark  of  his  before  he  left  her  room  she 
might  have  considered  the  possibility  of  falling  in 
with  his  plan.  The  humiliation  of  being  made  to  obey 
his  orders  might  have  been  lived  down,  greatly  as  she 
resented  humiliation.  But  when  it  came  to  such  a 
deliberate  attack  upon  her  vanity  —  that  was  alto- 
gether different. 

Miss  Honoria  Vanderdyke,  who  had  been  hard  at 
work  with  a  secretary  all  the  afternoon  organizing  a 
new  society  to  look  after  women  released  from  peni- 
tentiaries, came  out  as  Beatrix  was  passing.  The 
graceful,  white-haired  woman  put  her  arm  round  the 
girl's  shoulders.  "  I've  never  seen  you  look  so  happy, 
dear  child,"  she  said,  with  an  unusual  touch  of  ten- 
derness. 

Beatrix  smiled  at  her  and  in  her  mind's  eye  saw 
Franklin's  expression  as  he  stood  outside  the  summer- 
house  with  her  refusal  in  his  face.  "  I  have  every 
reason  to  be  happy,  Aunt  Honoria,"  she  answered,  in 
a  ringing  voice.  "  Life  has  great  compensations." 

They  fell  into  step  on  their  way  to  tea  —  the  elder 
woman  a  little  envious  of  what  appeared  to  be  her 
niece's  romantic  love  affair,  because  her  own  had  ended 
tragically  and  left  her  with  a  broken  heart.  Must  a 
woman  necessarily  break  her  heart  before  she  will 
devote  her  life  to  the  relief  of  other  people's  suffer- 
ings ?  An  old  philosopher,  who  must  have  been  some- 
thing of  a  misogynist,  once  defined  woman's  happiness 


SCANDAL  1143 

"  as  that  state  in  which  all  their  immediate  desires  were 
gratified,  a  self-satisfaction  which  left  them  blind  to 
the  fact  that  other  people  littered  the  earth."  Maybe 
he  was  right. 

Aunt  Honoria  looked  rather  searchingly  at  the 
beautiful  girl  at  her  side  who,  alone  among  all  the 
human  beings  that  she  knew,  possessed  the  magic 
carpet.  "  Why  do  you  talk  of  compensations  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  At  your  age,  in  your  position?  You  puzzle 
me,  child." 

Beatrix  laughed  the  question  off.  "  Oh,  that's  a 
long  story.  One  of  these  fine  days,  when  I  am  over- 
mastered by  a  desire  to  confess,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it. 
Look,  isn't  mother  wonderful  ?  It's  almost  absurd  for 
me  to  call  her  by  anything  but  her  Christian  name." 

Aunt  Honoria  smiled  a  little  dryly.  "  My  dear," 
she  said,  "  all  women  could  be  as  unnaturally  young  as 
your  mother  is  if  they  gave  up  as  much  time  to  it.  Tell 
me  about  that  very  striking  person  who  is  completely 
hemmed  in  by  old  men." 

"  Mrs.  Larpent  ?  Isn't  she  attractive  ?  Isn't  she 
exactly  like  one's  idea  of  a  favorite  in  the  Court  of 
Louis  Quinze?  I  don't  know  anything  about  her  yet. 
Wait  until  to-night  and  I  will  give  you  my  impres- 
sions." She  kissed  her  hand  to  her  aunt,  touched  her 
arm  with  an  affectionate  and  respectful  finger  and 
crossed  the  terrace  to  Ida  Larpent's  chair.  "  May  I 
join  your  admirers  ?  "  she  asked. 

With  a  curious  smile  Mrs.  Larpent  drew  closer  the 
chair  out  of  which  Courtney  Borner  had  done  his  best 
to  spring.  "  I  should  like  nothing  so  much,"  she  said. 


144  SCANDAL 

It  might  be  most  useful  to  become  the  friend  of  the 
wife  of  the  man  who  had  stirred  her  calculating  heart 
to  love.  Who  could  tell? 

In  the  meantime  having  immediately  gained  Mrs. 
Vanderdyke's  permission  to  ask  a  friend  of  his  to  dine 
and  sleep,  Franklin  shut  himself  up  in  the  telephone 
room,  asked  for  the  number  of  his  apartment  in  New 
York  and  told  Johnson  to  call  Malcolm  Eraser. 

"  Old  man,"  he  said,  when  his  friend's  voice  came 
rather  anxiously  over  the  wire,  "  will  you  do  something 
for  me?  Will  you  get  a  car  at  once  and  pack  your 
things  for  dinner  and  sleeping  and  rattle  down  here  as 
quick  as  you  can?  I  can't  say  anything  now  except 
that  I  need  you  worse  than  ever.  .  .  .  Thanks.  I 
knew  you  would.  So  long." 

In  a  secret  corner  of  his  staunch  heart  Fraser  had 
locked  up  his  love  for  Beatrix.  He  was  now  to  be  con- 
sulted again  as  to  how  to  put  things  right  between  her 
and  his  best  pal.  It's  a  queer  world  and  full  of 
paradox. 


XIV 

A  FEW  minutes  later  Franklin  was  exuberantly  wel- 
comed to  tea  by  little  Mrs.  Edgar  Lee  Reeves.  "  I'm 
terribly  glad  to  see  you,"  she  cried.  "  Come  and  tell 
me  all  about  everything.  I  was  distracted  when  I 
heard  that  you  had  gone  to  town.  Admiral,  have  you 
ever  seen  such  an  intriguing  tie  as  the  boy's  wearing?  " 

Poor  little  comic  lady!  She  had  much  the  same 
effect  on  Franklin  as  that  diabolical  machine  that  drills 
holes  in  steel  girders.  He  sat  down  at  her  side  and 
made  ready  to  endure  the  continual  tapping  of  her  un- 
controllable tongue  because  he  could  see  Beatrix  with 
the  sun  on  her  hair  and  the  nape  of  her  neck.  He 
didn't  quite  know  why,  but  he  was  queerly  disconcerted 
and  annoyed  to  see  that  she  was  in  animated  conversa- 
tion with  Ida  Larpent  and  the  fact  that  he  received  an 
enigmatical  glance  through  the  latter  lady's  half -closed 
eyes  did  much  to  add  to  this  uncomfortable  feeling. 

"  I've  been  talking  to  Mrs.  Vanderdyke  about  your 
unconventional  behavior,  Mr.  Franklin,"  continued 
Mrs.  Reeves. 

"  Unconventional,"  echoed  Franklin,  listening  with 
half  an  ear.  "  In  what  way?  " 

"  Well,  isn't  it  the  usual  thing  for  two  young  people 
to  enjoy  a  honeymoon  after  they  are  married,  especially 
such  young  people?" 

The  word  honeymoon  came  strangely  to  Franklin. 


146  SCANDAL 

If  it  had  been  mentioned  the  day  before  in  connection 
with  this  extraordinary  business  it  would  have  caused 
him  to  scoff  inwardly  and  do  his  best  to  pass  it  over 
with  a  forced  smile.  As  it  was,  on  top  of  his  sudden 
realization  that  in  Beatrix  was  the  woman  who  called 
him  to  live  bigly  and  love  to  distraction,  but  who  had 
refused  with  utter  scorn  even  to  go  through  the  form 
(  of  marriage  with  him,  it  acted  like  the  sting  of  a  knife. 

But  the  word  also  gave  him  an  idea  and  Mrs. 
Reeves'  remark  about  having  spoken  to  Mrs.  Vander- 
dyke  a  new  plan.  For  some  little  time  he  remained 
where  he  sat  while  the  little  woman  babbled,  going  from 
subject  to  subject  in  her  characteristically  unconcen- 
trated  way.  He  nodded  where  he  thought  that  a  nod 
was  due,  smiled  frequently  and  threw  in  a  yes  or  no  as 
it  seemed  necessary.  Finally  he  got  up,  when  the 
Admiral  drew  his  old  sweetheart's  attention  once  more 
to  himself,  and  went  over  to  Aunt  Honoria. 

"  May  I  take  you  for  a  little  exercise  in  the  gar- 
den? "  he  asked. 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  she  said,  rising  at  once.  "  I 
have  been  trying  to  catch  your  eye  for  some  minutes. 
I  want  your  advice." 

As  they  passed  Beatrix  she  had  the  audacity  to 
throw  at  Franklin  a  most  connubial  smile.  It  gave  the 
elderly  lady  a  thrill  and  very  nearly  threw  Franklin  off 
his  feet.  He  heard  the  contralto  of  Mrs.  Larpent's 
voice  and  Beatrix's  ringing  reply :  "  Yes,  he's  a 
darling."  Ye  gods,  but  this  girl  must  surely  be  a  sur- 
prise to  Nature  herself. 

Miss  Vanderdyke  refrained   from   saying  a  word 


SCANDAL  147 

until  she  was  out  of  earshot  of  the  cheerful  group. 
Then  she  drew  up  at  the  top  of  the  Italian  steps  that 
led  into  the  geometrical  gardens.  "  I  want  you  to 
listen  to  this  extraordinary  epistle,  Pelham,"  she  said. 
"  It  was  sent  to  my  sister-in-law  before  she  left  her 
rooms  this  afternoon."  She  drew  it  out  of  its  envelope 
and  read  it  in  her  clear,  incisive  voice. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Vanderdyke, 

"  I  have  just  received  a  telegram  from  a  leading  motion 
picture  concern  in  Los  Angeles  offering  me  very  big 
money  to  leave  to-night  to  do  a  picture  for  them.  Busi- 
ness before  pleasure,  you  know,  so  I  have  just  time  before 
making  a  train  to  New  York  to  write  these  few  lines.  I 
am  sorry  for  the  pastoral,  but  doubtless  you  will  be  able  to 
find  a  substitute  for  me,  though  not,  I  fear,  with  an  equal 
sense  of  rommance.  Thanking  you  for  your  kindness 
and  asuring  you  that  I  shall  not  require  any  fee  for  re- 
hearsals. 

"  Sinceerely, 

"  BRIAN  YOUNG." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  said  Franklin.  "  Pretty  cool  piece 
of  impertinence." 

"  I  thought  so.  And  look,  he  spells  romance  with 
two  '  m's,'  and  assuring  with  one  *  s/  He  also  makes 
the  inappropriate  word,  sincerely,  look  even  quainter  by 
a  superfluous  *  e  '  in  the  middle.  Are  all  matinee  idols 
quite  so  illiterate,  I  wonder?  " 

"  Hardly,"  said  Franklin.     "  What's  to  be  done?  " 

Aunt  Honoria  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Your 
mother-in-law  and  I,  after  consultation  with,  my 


"148  SCANDAL 

brother,  who  showed  even  less  than  his  usual  interest  in 
the  matter,  have  decided  to  cancel  the  pastoral, 
especially  as  we  have  all  been  discussing  the  advisabil- 
ity of  your  taking  Beatrix  away." 

"  For  a  honeymoon?  "  asked  Franklin  involuntarily. 

"  Exactly,"  Aunt  Honoria  gave  a  little  laugh. 
"  Because  you  two  young  despots  have  broken  the  con- 
ventions by  this  secret  marriage,  I  think  it  follows  that 
you  should  do  something  to  stop  gossip  and  comment 
by  conforming  to  an  old  custom.  What  do  you  say, 
my  friend  ?  " 

Franklin  put  a  curb  upon  his  eagerness.  To  get 
Beatrix  to  sea  on  his  yacht  —  that  was  the  thing.  It 
would  give  him  a  chance,  just  a  chance,  to  win  his  way 
to  Beatrix's  untouched  and  wilful  heart,  and  go  far  to 
show  York  that  his  intuition  and  cunning  reasoning 
were  wrong. 

"  If  you  think  so,"  he  said,  "  I  am  perfectly  willing 
to  fall  in  with  your  wishes." 

"  That's  extremely  nice  of  you !  " 

Franklin  showed  his  excellent  teeth  and  gave  a  little 
bow.  But  not  being  a  lady's  man  he  failed  to  produce 
an  Elizabethan  compliment  or  one  that  might  have 
proved  that  there  is  gallantry  even  in  these  careless 
days. 

Aunt  Honoria  took  the  word  for  the  deed,  and 
Franklin's  arm  down  the  steps.  The  sun  was  dipping 
into  the  Sound  and  the  whole  panorama  of  sky  was 
striped  and  splashed  with  red.  Young  voices  drifted 
toward  them  from  the  tennis  courts  and  a  flock  of  wild 
ducks  high  up  in  a  wide  V  flew  rapidly  above  their 


SCANDAL  149 

heads.  The  scent  of  flowers  rose  up  to  them  as  they 
walked  and  a  very  golden  day  slipped  gently  into 
evening. 

"  I  don't  know  what  Beatrix  will  have  to  say  about 
it,"  said  Franklin. 

There  was  a  rather  dry  laugh.  "  Oh,  I  had  not  for- 
gotten that  Beatrix,  although  happily  married,  is  a 
factor  to  be  consulted." 

Franklin  laughed  too.  "  No,"  he  said,  with  several 
memories  very  clear  in  his  mind,  "  one  could  hardly 
forget  that." 

And  then  the  tall,  white-haired,  dignified  woman, 
about  whom  there  was  an  intellectual  humanity  very 
rarely  met  with,  did  an  unexpected  thing.  She  stopped 
suddenly  and  stood  in  front  of  Franklin,  eye  to  eye 
with  him.  "  My  dear  Pelham,"  she  said,  with  a  touch 
of  propheticism,  "  you  will  not  find  the  woman  in 
Beatrix,  nor  will  she  have  discovered  the  woman  in 
herself,  until  that  precious  moment  when,  quite 
conscious  of  her  abdication  of  a  mock  throne,  she  falls 
in  with  your  wishes  like  a  simple  trusting1  child. 
When  that  moment  comes,  if  ever  it  does,  I  shall  give 
praise  to  God,  because  the  woman  in  Beatrix  will  be 
very  sweet  and  beautiful." 

And  then  they  continued  on  their  way  through  the 
sleepy  gardens. 

"  So  shall  I,"  said  Franklin  quietly. 

"  The  fact  that  the  pastoral  will  not  be  given  will 
help  us  considerably.  Beatrix,  who,  by  the  way,  has 
taken  small  part  in  the  rehearsals,  will  turn  for  amuse- 
ment to  something  else.  Her  father  and  mother  both 


150  SCANDAL 

desire  that  she  shall  put  an  end  to  gossip  and  give  our 
good  friends  no  further  excuse  to  hold  her  up  as  the 
most  unconventional  girl  of  the  day.  That  sort  of 
reputation  so  rightly  belongs  to  young  women  of  the 
stage  whose  success  depends  far  more  on  advertisement 
than  talent.  Where  is  your  yacht  ?  " 

"  Lying  in  the  river,  fully  commissioned." 

"  Oh,  well,  then  everything  is  easy !  Surely  nothing 
could  be  more  delightful  for  Beatrix  than  to  make  a 
cruise  under  these  romantic  circumstances.  Leave  it 
all  to  me,  my  dear  boy.  I'll  see  that  you  get  your  wife 
to  yourself,  never  fear." 

Beatrix  ran  her  arm  round  Aunt  Honoria's  waist. 
"  Well,"  she  said,  with  the  smile  that  she  always  used 
when  it  was  urgently  necessary  to  win  a  heart,  "  am  I 
to  be  allowed  in  this  conference,  or  am  I  a  back  number 
in  the  family  now  ?  "  She  had  watched  this  intimate 
talk  between  Miss  Vanderdyke  and  Franklin  with 
growing  uneasiness.  Finally,  in  the  middle  of  one  of 
Ida  Larpent's  best  stories,  she  had  sprung  up,  made 
short  work  of  the  distance  between  herself  and  them 
and  broken  into  the  conversation. 

"  We  were  talking  about  you,  my  dear,"  said  Aunt 
Honoria. 

"  No !  "  cried  Beatrix.     "  Impossible !  " 

Franklin  caught  her  mocking  glance  and  dug  his 
heels  into  the  path. 

"  We  were  making  plans  for  you,  charming  plans, 
honeymoon  plans  as  a  matter  of  fact,  and  as  the  pas- 
toral is  cancelled  you  will  no  doubt  fall  in  with  them 
with  enthusiasm." 


SCANDAL  151 

"  The  pastoral  cancelled  ?  Why  ? "  The  girl's 
voice  was  incredulous.  "  But  I've  been  to  all  the 
trouble  of  getting  a  special  costume,  nearly  all  the 
younger  people  in  the  house-party  have  been  chosen  on 
purpose." 

"  Our  friend  the  matinee  idol  has  flown  away  to  pick 
up  a  bigger  seed  elsewhere." 

A  flush  of  anger  colored  Beatrix's  face  and  her  eyes 
glinted.  "  He  said  something  to  me  this  morning 
about  motion  pictures.  I  thought  he  was  endeavoring 
to  advertise  himself.  I  never  dreamed  he  would  have 
the  impertinence  to  chuck  us!  " 

"  Well,  his  withdrawal  simplified  things,  my  dear, 
as  I  will  tell  you  later.  Come  to  my  room  ten  minutes 
before  dinner  and  I  will  give  you  the  latest  family  plan. 
In  the  meantime,  two's  company,  and  I  will  get  a  few 
words  with  my  old  friend,  the  Admiral,  who  is  wander- 
ing about  like  a  lost  soul."  Aunt  Honoria  nodded  and 
with  her  shoulders  as  square  as  those  of  a  well-drilled 
man,  went  gracefully  to  where  the  septuagenarian  lover 
was  either  chewing  the  cud  of  bitter  reflection  or  recov- 
ering from  a  long  bout  of  exaggerated  and  over- 
emphasized commonplaces. 

And  then  Beatrix  turned  sharply  to  Franklin.  "  Be 
good  enough  to  tell  me  what  all  this  means,"  she  said. 

Franklin  showed  his  teeth  in  his  peculiar  silent  laugh. 
"  Why  put  a  pin  through  Miss  Vanderdyke's  little  sur- 
prise? " 

Beatrix  intended  to  know.  Her  curiosity  was 
alight.  It  was  so  obvious  that  she  had  been  under  dis- 
cussion and  as  the  family  was  to  be  dragged  in,  so 


152  SCANDAL 

certain  that  she  was  going  to  be  coerced  into  something 
totally  against  her  wishes.  But  she  changed  her  tac- 
tics. 

"  Oh,  look,"  she  cried,  "  isn't  that  sail  perfectly 
charming  against  the  sky  ?  " 

"  Corking,"  said  Franklin,  not  looking  at  it,  but  at 
her.  By  Jupiter,  how  lovely,  how  desirable,  but  how 
amazingly  perverse  she  was!  A  man  would  have  not 
lived  for  nothing  who  could  break  her  and  make  her, 
even  if  she  never  returned  his  love. 

"  It's  a  good  world,"  she  said,  with  a  little  sigh,  wait- 
ing to  catch  Franklin  on  the  hop.  "  Sometimes  I'm 
consumed  with  a  longing  to  be  right  away  in  the  middle 
of  the  sea  —  to  get  even  with  things." 

She  caught  him.  It  was  uncanny.  "  The  chance  is 
yours,"  he  said,  easily  beaten.  "  It  has  been  decided 
that  we  go  for  our  honeymoon  on  the  Galatea." 

She  whipped  around.  "  Oh,  so  that's  it,  is  it  ? 
You've  been  working  up  a  conspiracy  to  get  me  on  your 
yacht  so  that  you  may  escape  from  gossip?  I  see! 
Quite  clever  to  enrol  my  family  against  me,  but  my 
answer  to  you  this  afternoon  holds  good." 

For  all  the  love  that  had  come  upon  him  so  suddenly, 
Franklin  lost  patience.  He  put  his  hand  on  her  arm 
and  held  her  in  a  close  grip.  "  Let  it  hold  good,"  he 
said.  "  Stand  out  against  being  my  wife  until  you 
see  sense  and  learn  that  others  deserve  consideration 
besides  yourself.  But  conform  now  to  your  people's 
wishes  and  put  York  off  the  scent.  That's  all  you're 
required  to  do  at  the  moment." 

"  Take  your  hand  away/'  said  Beatrix  icily.     "  This 


SCANDAL  153 

is  not  a  woman's  bedroom.  I  can  call  for  help  here, 
remember." 

Franklin  retained  his  grip.  He  was  very  angry. 
"  You  fool,"  he  said,  too  completely  out  of  control  to 
choose  his  words.  "  Look  at  this  thing  sanely.  Come 
out  of  your  house  of  cards  and  play  the  game  like  a 
grown  woman.  The  scandal  that  drove  you  into  tak- 
ing advantage  of  me  will  be  ten  thousand  times  worse 
if  York  gets  to  work." 

"  That  doesn't  worry  me,"  said  Beatrix  calmly. 
"  I'll  thank  you  for  my  arm." 

"  You  don't  count,"  said  Franklin.  "  Consideration 
must  be  given  to  your  people  and  to  me." 

"  I'm  perfectly  willing  and  even  anxious  to  protect 
my  people,  but  " —  and  she  gave  him  two  fearless  eyes 
— "  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  worry  about  you." 

"  Why  not  ?  Where  would  you  be  now  but  for  my 
having  come  to  the  rescue  ?  " 

Beatrix  gave  a  most  tantalizing  laugh.  "  When  you 
learned  to  play  the  trumpet  you  were  a  good  pupil, 
Mr.  Franklin.  Any  other  man  would  have  done  as 
well,  you  know." 

Franklin  dropped  her  arm.  "  Good  God,"  he  said, 
"you  beat  me.  I  can't  compete  with  you.  I  might 
just  as  well  try  to  drive  sense  into  a  lunatic." 

It  was  good,  it  was  worth  being  alive  to  Beatrix  to 
see  this  man,  this  fine,  strong,  clean-built,  square- 
shouldered  man,  who  had  dared  to  conceive  the  remote 
possibility  of  humbling  her  for  what  she  had  done,  who 
had  had  the  sublime  audacity  to  believe  that  he  could 
teach  her  a  lesson,  standing  impotent  before  her,  self- 


154  SCANDAL 

confessedly  her  inferior,  when  it  came  to  wits.  She 
showed  it  in  her  smile,  in  her  almost  bland  and  child- 
like glee,  in  her  frank  pleasure.  He  had  said  a  thing 
to  her  that  no  man  should  ever  have  said  to  a  woman 
and  expect  to  be  forgiven.  She  would  remember  it  as 
long  as  she  lived  and  make  him  pay  for  it  and  pay  and 
pay  again. 

"  Even  lunatics  have  their  sane  moments,"  she  said. 
"  Mine  come  whenever  I  think  about  you.  Isn't  that 
Malcolm  Eraser  on  the  terrace?  How  delightful. 
Suppose  we  go  back  now,  after  yet  another  of  our  little 
wrangles,  shall  we  ?  " 

She  stood  silhouetted  against  the  darkening  sky, 
with  her  hands  behind  her  back,  her  head  held  high,  the 
very  epitome  of  utter  carelessness,  the  last  word  in 
individualism,  the  thoughtless  and  selfish  enjoyment  of 
the  moment  and  of  life  generally  so  long  as  it  was  with- 
out responsibility,  concentration,  or  a  call  to  do  any- 
thing for  anybody  but  herself. 

"  Count  me  out,  please,"  said  Franklin.  "  You  must 
get  out  of  this  business  in  your  own  way.  I  shall  leave 
here  to-night  and  go  to  sea.  I  wish  you  luck." 

He  bowed,  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  away,  and 
as  he  went,  he  hoped  that  he  might  never  see  that  girl 
again. 


XV 

"  Now,  old  man,"  said  Franklin  when  at  last  he 
found  himself  with  Malcolm  Fraser,  "  let's  get  out  of 
earshot  of  this  chattering  crowd  and  come  up  to 
things." 

"  The  sooner  the  better,"  said  Fraser. 

They  left  the  hall  and  passed  the  ball-room,  to  which 
everyone  with  a  sense  of  rhythm,  even  if  with  no  ear 
for  music,  had  been  drawn  by  the  irresistible  syncopa- 
tion of  a  large  banjo  band  of  colored  musicians.  The 
drummer  was  already  committing  demented  acts  upon 
a  scavenger  collection  of  tins,  boxes,  and  whistles. 
They  went  out  into  the  moonlight  and  through  the  gar- 
dens to  the  summer  house. 

The  dynamic  energy  which  radiated  from  Franklin 
did  much,  so  far  as  Fraser  was  concerned,  to  spoil  the 
exquisite  peace  and  lassitude  of  the  night.  All  the  poet 
in  him  gave  him  the  keys  with  which  to  open  some  of 
the  unnoticed  doors  to  Nature's  storehouses  of  beauty 
and  called  him  to  stand  very  still  and  fill  his  brain  and 
soul  with  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes.  He  had  never 
felt  prouder  of  his  country  than  when  he  revelled  in  the 
picture  of  the  moon-touched  Sound,  magic  with  the 
reflection  of  a  multitude  of  stars,  and  ran  his  eyes  along 
the  dim  outline  of  shore  to  his  right  and  caught  the 
bright  eyes  of  thousands  of  cheerful  lights.  It  seemed 


156  SCANDAL 

to  him  that  Nature,  with  the  proud  consciousness  of 
her  genius  as  an  artist,  had  outdone  herself  in  setting  a 
scene  for  the  human  comedy  in  which  he  had  been  cast 
for  the  second  male  part.  Water  and  moon  and  stars, 
the  mystery  of  night,  the  feeling  of  illimitable  space, 
the  scent  of  sleeping  flowers,  the  whisper  of  fairies,  all 
as  old  and  even  older  than  the  hills  —  surely  this  was 
an  appropriate  setting  for  the  working  out  of  the 
ancient  and  inevitable  drama,  the  ever-recurring  clash, 
between  a  man  and  a  woman. 

"  Go  ahead,  Pel,"  he  said.  "  This  morning  in  New 
York  you  left  this  strange  story  of  yours  at  the  point 
where  the  entrance  of  York  into  it  made  you  decide  to 
marry  Beatrix.  I  have  not  got  the  novelist's  brain  so 
I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  see  what  can  have  happened 
in  the  chapter  that  has  been  begun  since  then." 

"  My  dear  chap,"  said  Franklin,  flinging  the  end  of 
a  cigarette  over  the  wall,  "  don't  you  know  that  more 
impossible  things  are  done  every  hour  in  life  than  ever 
find  their  way  into  books  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  that." 

"Well,  the  thing  that  I  should  have  thought  the 
very  limit  of  impossibility  happened  here,  on  this  very 
spot,  this  afternoon  when  I  got  back.  Take  a  guess." 

Fraser's  answer  came  quickly.  "  Beatrix  loves 
you." 

There  was  no  mirth  in  Franklin's  laugh.  "  Guess 
again." 

"  You  love  Beatrix." 

"  A  precious  clever  fellow,  aren't  you  ?  What  the 
devil  made  you  get  to  love  so  quickly  ?  I  expected  you 


SCANDAL  157 

to  flounder  through  a  dozen  guesses  and  then  be  wide 
of  the  mark." 

"  A  man  and  a  woman  and  love,"  said  Eraser. 
"Why  hire  a  detective  to  make  a  mystery  of  that? 
It's  any  poet's  job." 

Franklin  kicked  the  wall  viciously.  "  There's  noth- 
ing for  a  poet  in  this,"  he  said.  "  I  do  love  this  girl. 
I  wish  to  God  I  didn't.  I'd  give  ten  years  of  my  life 
if  she  left  me  as  cold  as  a  flapping  fish.  You  know 
what  we  talked  over  this  morning.  We  decided  that 
there  was  only  one  way  for  me  to  get  out  honestly  of 
that  fool  maze  in  which  I'd  been  caught.  The  reasons 
were  pretty  obvious.  My  family  and  the  Vanderdykes 
were  at  the  mercy  of  that  glossy  charlatan  and  because 
of  the  ungovernable  impulses  of  this  .  .  .  this  —  what 
in  thunder  is  the  right  word  for  Beatrix?  I  give  it 
up." 

"  Undiscovered  girl.     Will  that  do?  " 

"  No,"  said  Franklin.     "  Not  a  bit  like  it." 

"  Well,  then,  dollar-ruined,  misnamed  victim  of  a 
false  civilization.  How's  that  ?  " 

"  Too  long  and  too  pedantic.  I  wanted  one  word. 
However,  let  it  go.  What's  it  matter?  It's  a  waste 
of  words  to  describe  her  and  a  waste  of  time  to  con- 
sider her.  When  I  put  things  to  her  plainly  and 
bluntly,  she  told  me  to  go  to  the  devil.  I  sent  for  you 
to  use  your  influence,  hoping,  as  of  course  you  can  see, 
that  she  might  come  down  to  solid  things  and  see  sense, 
• —  hoping  too  that,  married,  I  might  be  able  to  force 
my  way  into  her  heart,  if  she's  got  one." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she's  got  one." 


158  SCANDAL 

"  I  doubt  it.  Very  highly  finished  watch  works  is 
all  the  heart  she's  got.  However,  since  that  first  talk 
we've  had  another  and  that's  made  your  kindness  in 
coming  here  utterly  useless." 

Eraser  turned  eagerly  towards  his  friend.  He  had 
no  hope  of  ever  being  any  more  to  Beatrix  than  an  art 
student  can  be  to  a  very  perfect  Gainsborough  at  which 
he  gazes  from  behind  a  rail.  He  could  neither  buy  her 
nor  win  her.  She  was  completely  out  of  his  reach. 
Not  able  to  marry  her  himself,  he  would  rather  see 
her  married  to  Franklin  than  any  living  man. 
"Why?  "he  asked. 

"  Because  I'm  off.  I'm  out.  I'm  through.  I'm  not 
an  expert  in  love.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I'm  a  boob  in 
the  business.  It's  new  to  me.  But  it's  hit  me  good 
and  hard,  old  son,  and  with  any  encouragement  or  with 
half  a  chance,  I'd  go  for  it  with  everything  decent 
that's  in  me." 

"  Go  for  it,"  said  Fraser,  with  an  odd  thrill  in  his 
voice.  "  You  have  all  the  luck." 

Franklin  shook  his  head.  "  No.  I've  done.  She 
has  no  use  for  me.  She  mocks  me,  twists  me  round 
her  finger,  holds  me  up  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  gets 
more  fun  out  of  me  than  if  I  were  a  red-nosed 
comedian  and  nearly  drives  me  to  murder.  I  just  have 
to  get  away.  I'm  going  to-night." 

"  To-night  ?  But  my  dear  old  Pel,  you  —  you  only 
found  out  that  you  loved  her  a  few  hours  ago." 

"  Quite  long  enough." 

"  But,  good  Lord,  you  must  let  me  see  what  I  can 
do.  When  we  were  kids  I  used  to  have  some  influence 


SCANDAL  159 

with  her.  That  is,  once  or  twice  she  did  things 
for  my  sake.  To  chuck  the  whole  thing  now, 
when  it  looks  far  more  serious  than  ever, —  why 
Pel,  my  dear  man,  talk  about  ungovernable  im- 
pulses   " 

"Oh,  I  know,"  growled  Franklin.  "We're  both 
tarred  with  the  same  brush.  We're  both  money- 
maniacs.  However,  in  perfectly  cold  blood,  standing 
here  to-night,  I  assure  you  that  I  am  better  out  of  her 
way.  I  can't  help  her.  She  won't  be  helped.  She 
doesn't  give  a  red  cent  for  anything  that  may  happen. 
All  she  cares  about  is  just  to  go  laughing  through  the 
moment.  Well,  let  her.  But  she'll  have  to  go  alone. 
I  love  her  in  the  sort  of  way  that  makes  me  want  to 
choke  her  when  she  starts  her  tricks.  That's  the  truth. 
I'm  sorry.  I  don't  want  to  be  unsporting  and  all  that 
but,  Malcolm,  she  isn't  safe  with  me."  His  voice 
shook  as  he  said  this  thing. 

"  Wait  until  the  morning,"  said  Fraser  urgently. 
"  Let  me  show  her  the  mess  she's  in." 

"  Can't  be  done,"  said  Franklin.  "  I've  told  Albert 
to  put  my  things  in  the  car  and  I'm  off  to  town  right 
away.  I  shall  go  aboard  in  the  morning  and  weigh 
anchor  at  two  o'clock.  I'll  wait  for  you  till  then  and 
not  a  second  later."  He  laid  his  hand  on  Fraser's 
shoulder.  "  Get  your  things  and  come  now.  There's 
nothing  to  do  here,  worse  luck." 

"  In  any  case,"  said  Fraser,  "  I  want  to  have  a  bit 
of  a  talk  with  Beatrix  now  that  I'm  here." 

"  All  right.  Well,  then,  so  long,  Malcolm.  It  was 
mighty  good  of  you  to  come.  Don't  fail  to  be  in  time 


160  SCANDAL 

to-morrow."  He  turned  and  went,  walking  quickly 
and  waking  all  the  flowers  with  his  energy. 

Fraser  watched  him  go, —  his  tall,  wiry,  square- 
shouldered,  muscular  figure  thrown  out  against  the 
moon-silvered  stone-work  of  the  terrace.  Then  he 
turned  back  to  the  scene  that  rilled  his  brain  with 
imagery  and  that  inarticulate  worship  which  is  offered 
by  all  good  students  to  the  Master  for  the  perfection 
of  His  work.  The  silence  sang.  Many  of  the  shore 
lights  had  gone  out.  But  the  moon  rode  high  and  the 
stars  were  at  their  brightest.  The  faint  breeze  had 
fallen  away.  Fraser  raised  his  hand  above  his  head  in 
a  sort  of  salute  and  then  wheeled  round  and  followed 
Franklin  toward  the  elephantine  house  that  made  a 
huge  black  patch  against  the  transparent  sky.  As  he 
got  nearer  to  it  the  music  of  a  Hula-Hula  thing  came 
to  him, —  a  fascinating,  hip-moving  mixture  that  sug- 
gested both  Hawaii  and  Broadway  and  he  could  see  the 
dancers  flitting  past  the  open  windows  of  the  ball-room. 
Among  them  was  Beatrix,  in  the  arms  of  one  of  those 
spineless  semi-professional  dancing  men,  a  new,  curi- 
ous and  uncomfortable  breed  that  has  developed  in 
New  York  since  the  craze  carried  it  on  to  its  feet. 
Her  mouth  was  open  and  her  teeth  gleaming  and  her 
young  body  moving  with  exquisite  grace  and  ease. 

Fraser  went  up  to  one  of  the  windows  and  watched 
her  until  the  tune  came  to  an  end.  Every  man  has  a 
dream.  Somewhere  or  other  in  the  life  of  men,  all 
men,  there  is  one  precious,  priceless  thing  tucked  away 
in  the  secret  drawer  of  the  heart.  Beatrix,  as  a  little, 
frank,  fearless  girl,  lived  and  was  glorified,  for  Fraser, 


SCANDAL 

He  allowed  himself  just  one  short  sigh.  "  And 
now,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  to  show  for  the  first  time  in 
history  that  a  poet  can  be  a  man  of  action  for  the 
sake  of  a  friend.  If  I  fail,  I'll,  yes,  I'll  eat  and  drink 
my  self-filling  pen." 

It  was  one  o'clock  the  next  day  when  Franklin  left 
the  chart-room  of  the  Galatea,  where  he  had  been  plan- 
ning out  a  cruise  with  the  skipper.  He  went  on  deck. 
All  hands  had  been  busily  at  work  since  early  morning, 
cleaning  and  polishing.  The  yacht  looked  like  a  beau- 
tiful woman,  fresh  from  the  hands  of  manicure  and 
maid. 

There  was  a  shout  of  "  Galatea  ahoy  "  from  the  port 
side.  Franklin  took  no  notice.  It  was  probably  the 
arrival  of  the  last  boat-load  of  stores.  He  stood  with 
his  arms  behind  him  and  his  mind  back  in  the  Vander- 
dyke  gardens  with  the  afternoon  sun  aslant  upon  them, 
and  as  he  watched  the  retreating  figure  of  the  imperious 
girl  to  whom  he  was  less  than  the  dust,  a  mere  pawn 
to  be  moved  when  it  was  necessary  in  her  game,  the 
amazing  thrill  which  had  discovered  to  him  the  love 
that  was  to  be  the  greatest  thing  in  his  life,  ran  all  over 
him  again,  and  shook  him  with  its  strength  and  pas- 
sion. 

Well,  he  was  bolting  from  her,  bolting  because  he 
was  afraid.  It  was  the  act  of  a  coward,  perhaps,  but 
that  girl  had  the  power  of  making  queer  creatures  of 
men.  And  he  did  not  intend  to  be  one  of  them.  That 
was  all. 

A  laugh,  taken  up  by  the  breeze  and  thrown  past  his 


162  SCANDAL 

ear  like  the  petal  of  a  flower,  turned  him  round.  Un- 
able to  believe  his  eyes,  he  saw  Beatrix,  Ida  Larpent 
and  Malcolm  Fraser,  standing  on  deck,  while  luggage 
was  being  piled  about  them.  Fraser  waved  his  hand 
triumphantly.  Mrs.  Larpent  gave  one  of  her  slow 
smiles  and  Beatrix,  with  the  expression  of  an  angel  and 
a  touch  of  timidity  and  even  humbleness  that  Franklin 
had  never  seen  before,  came  forward.  "  Come  aboard, 
sir,"  she  said,  with  a  very  proper  salute.  "  Malcolm 
showed  me  the  error  of  my  ways  last  night  and  like 
a  good  and  faithful  wife  I  am  going  on  my  honey- 
moon." 

And  then  the  old  Beatrix  returned  and  a  mocking 
smile  turned  Franklin's  heart  to  ice. 


XVI 

FRANKLIN  was  a  man  who  inherited  a  horror  of 
scenes.  If  he  saw  a  crowd  in  the  street  reinforced  by 
running  figures  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  the 
other  way.  Anything  in  the  nature  of  an  argument 
sent  him  out  into  the  street.  He  was  at  any  time  per- 
fectly willing  to  fight,  either  for  the  sake  of  the  exer- 
cise or  to  punish  an  offender,  but  he  shied  at  a  fracas, 
a  domestic  wrangle  or  the  remote  possibility  of  placing 
himself  in  a  position  of  being  surrounded  by  many 
people  all  talking  at  the  same  time.  He  had  camped 
in  solitary  places,  and  communed  with  nature  in  her 
forest  cathedrals.  He  liked  the  silences. 

The  moment  that  this  amazing  boat-load  came 
aboard  the  Galatea  he  saw  himself  plunged  into  a 
scene,  if  ever  there  was  one.  Malcolm  Eraser  was 
bursting  with  information  and  explanations.  Mrs. 
Larpent  gave  every  indication  of  the  fact  that  she  felt 
that  some  justification  for  her  presence  was  required, 
and  behind  Beatrix's  impish  laugh  there  was  a  high- 
feipirited  story  waiting  to  be  told. 

Just  for  one  moment  Franklin  stood  bare-headed  in 
front  of  Beatrix  completely  and  utterly  nonplussed. 
She  was  the  last  person  on  earth  whom  he  had  expected 
to  see  on  the  yacht.  He  had,  indeed,  made  up  his  mind 
never  to  see  her  again, —  to  cut  and  run  from  the  pain 


164  SCANDAL 

of  her,  the  allurement,  the  overwhelming  attraction. 
He  gazed  at  her  as  if  she  had  fallen  from  the  clouds. 
He  had  been  treated  like  a  child  again,  "  used  "  once 
more,  and  he  was  angry,  but  as  he  took  in  her  charm- 
ing appearance,  the  calm  audacity  of  her  expression, 
the  indescribable  loveliness  of  her  face,  he  rejoiced. 
Then  he  pulled  himself  together  and  tried  to  perform 
the  operation  of  smiling  as  a  new  husband  should. 
"  You're  in  excellent  time,"  he  said,  and  gave  a  shout, 
caught  the  eye  of  the  mate  and  beckoned  him  to  come 
forward.  "  Get  everything  ready  for  Mrs.  Franklin 
and  Mrs.  Larpent.  Look  alive  and  have  Mr.  Eraser's 
things  taken  down  to  his  stateroom  at  once." 

The  mate  was  English.  "  Aye !  Aye,  sir ! "  He 
was  also  young  and  sandy  and  somewhat  precocious, 
and  from  the  tail-end  of  his  eye  there  came  a  look  of 
deep  admiration  for  the  owner's  wife,  whom  he  now 
saw  for  the  first  time. 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  said  Franklin.  "  I  don't  see  any- 
thing of  your  maid,  Beatrix.  You'll  never  be  able  to 
get  along  without  her." 

"  You're  very  thoughtful,"  said  Beatrix,  graciously. 
"  Anyone  would  think  you  had  been  on  a  honeymoon 
before."  And  then  she  laughed.  "  For  some  reason 
or  other  Helene  is  very  much  afraid  of  you.  I 
brought  her,  but  evidently  she's  hidden  behind  some- 
thing,—  the  baggage  probably."  She  called  "  Helene," 
and  the  pretty  face  and  compact  figure  of  the  young 
Breton  appeared  reluctantly  from  behind  several  huge 
innovation  trunks,  hat-boxes,  boot-cases,  cabin-trunks, 
and  the  Lord  knows  what  besides, —  enough,  as  it 


SCANDAL  165 

seemed  to  Franklin,  to  supply  half  a  dozen  wives  with 
unnecessaries. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  go  below  with  Mr.  Jones  and  make 
your  own  arrangements.  Otherwise,  I'm  afraid  you 
won't  be  very  comfortable." 

Beatrix  smiled  in  her  best  social  manner.  "  It's  too 
bad  to  put  you  to  all  this  inconvenience  and  worry," 
she  said.  "  I'm  so  sorry,  but  I  dare  say  we  shall  all 
fit  in  with  perfect  ease  and  comfort.  More  like  a 
young  liner  than  a  yacht,  isn't  she  ?  And  who  named 
her  the  Galatea?  So  terribly  suitable,  as  little  Mrs. 
Reeves  would  say.  Lead  the  way,  Mr.  Jones." 

There  was  a  touch  of  almost  navy  etiquette  about  the 
way  in  which  the  mate  saluted  and  obeyed. 

Beatrix  beckoned  to  Helene,  who  was  as  frightened 
as  a  rabbit  at  sight  of  dogs,  and  the  little  party  went 
below.  Franklin  watched  her  go,  saw  her  look  about 
her  with  a  touch  of  perfectly  simple  excitement,  envied 
the  sun  as  she  put  up  her  face  to  catch  it  and  the 
friendly  smile  with  which  she  rewarded  the  mate.  "If 
only,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  if  only " 

And  then  Mrs.  Larpent  came  forward.  There  was 
a  most  curious  little  smile  round  her  very  red  lips  and 
wide  nostrils,  and  a  whole  dictionary  of  meaning  in 
her  eyes.  "  You  must  be  a  little  surprised  to  see " 

Franklin  cut  her  short.  "  Not  at  all.  Delighted !  " 
he  said,  bluntly.  "  Would  you  be  good  enough  to  fol- 
low Beatrix  and  take  your  choice  of  staterooms?  I 
will  endeavor  to  get  a  stewardess  for  you  before  we 
sail." 

"  Thanks,  so  much !  "  said  Ida  Larpent,  making  no 


166  SCANDAL 

attempt  to  disguise  her  sense  of  triumph  at  being  on 
the  yacht.  "  How  delightful  it  will  be  to  get  away 
from  the  land  and  its  people  for  a  time.  I  congratu- 
late you  on  the  Galatea/' 

Franklin  waited  until  she  had  disappeared  and  then 
strode  over  to  Malcolm  Fraser,  who  was  watching 
the  arriving  baggage,  took  his  arm  and  marched  him 
out  of  ear-shot  of  the  crew.  "  What  the  devil  have 
you  done?  You  call  yourself  a  friend  and  land  me  in 
this  mess !  "  His  voice  was  thick  with  anger. 

Fraser  looked  as  astonished  as  he  felt.  "  But  you 
called  me  down  to  the  Vanderdykes  to  do  this  very 
thing,"  he  said.  "  I've  done  it.  What's  the  trou- 
ble?" 

"  You  colossal  idiot !  "  said  Franklin.  "  Haven't 
you  imagination  enough  to  see  it  for  yourself?  Have 
you  forgotten  every  blessed  thing  that  I  told  you  last 
night?  You  haven't  persuaded  this  girl  to  come 
aboard  to  oblige  her  people  or  to  keep  my  name  out  of 
the  papers.  She  doesn't  give  a  solitary  curse  whether 
hers  is  in  them  or  not.  She's  come  just  to  have  the 
satisfaction  of  playing  with  fire,  and  has  brought  Ida 
Larpent  because  she  knows  instinctively  that  she  is  the 
last  woman  on  earth  I  care  to  see  her  with  or  have 
on  the  Galatea." 

All  the  way  back  to  town,  Fraser  had  been  con- 
gratulating himself  on  having  achieved  the  impossible. 
He  opened  his  mouth  to  speak. 

"  I  think  you'd  better  dry  up,"  said  Franklin,  "  and 
give  me  time  to  cool  down.  At  this  moment  I  feel  like 
pitching  you  overboard."  He  turned  on  his  heel,  went 


SCANDAL  167 

forward  and  stood,  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his 
pockets,  gazing  down  the  river. 

Like  all  poets,  Malcolm  Eraser  was  a  very  sensitive 
person.  He  was  deeply  hurt  at  the  way  in  which  his 
efforts  were  received  by  the  man  for  whom  he  had  a 
very  deep  regard.  Like  all  poets, —  even  those  who 
confine  themselves  to  gloomy  verses,  to  graves  and 
broken  hearts  and  wind  in  the  trees, —  he  was  an  op- 
timist. He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  had  only  to 
get  Beatrix  away  to  sea  with  Franklin  to  bring  ro- 
mance into  their  very  strange,  exotic  story.  He  held 
the  belief, —  shared  by  many  philosophers, —  that  in 
most  cases  love  is  the  outcome  of  propinquity, — 
especially  at  sea.  He  didn't  possess  much,  but  he 
would  give  it  all  to  watch  the  girl  he  loved  become  a 
woman  and  find  herself  for  love  of  his  friend.  He 
threw  a  sympathetic  glance  at  the  square  shoulders  of 
his  friend,  and  went  below  to  his  own  familiar  state- 
room. From  this  he  could  hear  Beatrix's  merry  laugh. 
She,  at  any  rate,  seemed  to  be  happy,  and  that  was 
something.  He  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  under- 
stand,—  with  his  friend's  confession  still  warm  in  his 
memory, —  why,  he,  too,  was  not  in  the  seventh  heaven 
of  delight  at  the  fulfilment  of  what  had  yesterday 
seemed  to  be  a  dream.  To  the  amazing  unconvention- 
ality  of  the  whole  affair  he  gave  no  thought.  He  was 
an  artist. 

Finally,  and  with  a  huge  effort  to  master  his  anger 
and  amazement,  joy  and  sense  of  impending  trouble, 
Franklin  summed  things  up  to  the  best  of  his  ability: 
"  Here's  Beatrix,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  not  married  to 


168  SCANDAL 

me, —  supposedly  on  our  honeymoon.  I  love  her  like 
an  idiotic  school-boy  —  she  loathes  me  like  the  devil. 
Here's  Ida  Larpent,  out  for  everything  that  she  can 
get,  playing  her  own  hand  with  all  the  cunning  of  a 
card-sharp.  Here's  Fraser,  one  of  the  very  best,  a 
man  with  a  heart  of  gold  to  whom  friendship  means 
loyalty,  with  a  love  for  Beatrix  which  has  outlasted  his 
boyhood.  And  almost  in  sight  of  us  all  is  the  open 
sea.  Great  Scott,  what  a  mess !  " 

And  then  Captain  McBean  stood  at  his  elbow. 
"Orders  stand,  sir?" 

"  Of  course,"  said  Franklin.  "  But  before  we  put 
off  do  what  you  can  to  get  a  stewardess  aboard  for 
Mrs.  Larpent.  You  had  better  send  Jones  ashore. 
He  has  a  wide  smile  and  does  things  pretty  quick,  and, 
—  wait  a  second,  Captain, —  let  him  bring  back  all 
the  latest  novels  that  he  can  find.  We  shall  need  some- 
thing to  keep  the  ladies  busy." 

The  Captain  chuckled.     He  had  been  married  twice. 


XVII 

THE  Galatea  was  under  way  at  two  o'clock, —  a 
clear,  bright,  sparkling  afternoon  with  a  hot  sun,  a 
transparent  sky  and  hardly  a  puff  of  wind.  Built  on 
thorough  sea-going  lines,  newly  painted  and  in  apple- 
pie  order  and  carrying  a  crew  of  forty  men  she  was,  as 
well  she  might  be,  the  envy  of  passing  craft.  Men 
who  knew,  ran  their  eyes  along  her  graceful  lines  with 
admiration  and  took  pleasure  in  her  swan-like  move- 
ment. Others  on  tugboats,  shifting  a  quid,  made 
rough  guesses  as  to  her  daily  cost  in  the  manner  of 
women  talking  over  the  clothes,  jewels  and  spendings 
of  a  distinguished  leader  of  society. 

About  one-thirty  two  things  happened,— the  first 
of  them  comic,  the  other  not  without  a  touch  of  pathos. 
The  sandy-headed  mate,  Horatio  Jones,  whose  middle 
name  of  Nelson  was  dropped  by  him  with  a  sneaking 
sense  of  its  unfitness,  had  used  his  wide  smile  and  glib 
tongue  to  some  purpose  and  returned  to  the  yacht  with 
Mrs.  O'Dowd  after  a  busy  thirty  minutes.  The  young 
Irish,  childless,  wife  of  a  sea-faring  friend  of  his,  she 
was  not  above  earning  good  wages  as  stewardess  and 
taking  a  look  at  the  world,  her  husband  being  away. 
Also  he  brought  with  him  a  heterogeneous  box  full  of 
what  the  book-seller  had  called  the  latest  novels,  but 
some  of  them  had  been  out  six  months  and  so  were  in 


i;o  SCANDAL 

ripe  old  age.  There  was  no  time  to  make  much  of  a 
choice,  but  Jones  had,  as  usual,  looked  after  himself 
by  seeing  that  his  collection  included  Rex  Beach,  Jack 
London,  Irvin  Cobb,  Robert  Chambers,  Gene  Stratton- 
Porter  and  Sinclair  Lewis.  It  was  simply  to  make  up 
weight  that  he  threw  in  Wells,  Walpole,  Dunsany, 
Lucas  Malet,  Conrad,  Galsworthy,  and  other  drawing- 
room  "  geezers,"  as  he  called  them.  They  meant  noth- 
ing to  him.  He  handed  Mrs.  O'Dowd  over  to  the 
chief  steward  and  with  an  air  of  pride  and  satisfaction 
followed  the  case  down  to  the  library  and  arranged  its 
pristine  contents  in  a  long  alluring  line  on  the  centre 
table.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  hardly-ever  read 
sporting  and  technical  volumes  behind  the  glass  of  all 
the  cases  turned  up  their  noses  in  contempt. 

The  pathetic  incident  was  the  unexpected  arrival  of 
little  Mrs.  Lester  Keene,  who  came  on  board  with  the 
air  of  a  moving  picture  heroine  chased  by  at  least  six 
desperate  and  obviously  made  up  villains  armed  to  the 
teeth.  A  little  bag  into  which  she  had  placed  all  her 
small  items  of  jewelry  and  other  treasures  was  clutched 
in  one  agitated  hand  and  she  carried  an  umbrella  in 
the  other.  She  was  one  of  those  women  who  regard 
an  umbrella  as  the  patent  of  respectability  rather  than 
as  a  weapon  of  service.  She  took  it  with  her  walking 
or  driving, —  wet  or  fine.  It  was  a  fetish,  an  institu- 
tion. Deprived  of  her  umbrella  she  would  have  felt 
like  an  actor  without  his  daily  advertisement  or  an 
Oxford  Don  caught  naked  by  a  chambermaid.  She 
was  assisted  aboard,  with  many  gasps,  by  a  deck  hand, 
and  drew  up,  expecting  apparently  to  see  pirates  and 


SCANDAL  171 

{he  skull  and  cross  bones.  Franklin  turned  and  saw 
her  and  smiled  a  welcome. 

For  some  reason  which  he  didn't  endeavor  to  define 
he  was  glad  to  see  the  admirable  little  woman  who  had 
won  his  complete  respect  and  admiration  in  her  en- 
deavor to  put  up  a  fight  in  Beatrix's  bedroom  that 
memorable  night.  "  My  dear  Mrs.  Keene,"  he  said, 
holding  out  his  hand,  "  I'm  delighted  to  see  you.  Wel- 
come to  the  Galatea!  I  was  wondering  how  it  was 
that  my  wife  came  to  leave  you  behind." 

Mrs.  Keene  bridled  with  indignation.  "  Your 
wife?  "  she  said.  "  Well,  this  is  really  a  most  extraor- 
dinary country." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Franklin,  "  I  should  have 
said  Miss  Vanderdyke."  It  had  seemed  to  him  quite 
natural  to  use  the  word  "wife." 

"  That's  why  I  have  come,"  said  Mrs.  Keene,  her 
rather  loose  skin  wabbling  nervously.  "  Need  I  say 
more?  " 

"  Nothing  more,  but  I  must  ask  you  at  once  to  oblige 
me  by  remembering  that  everybody  on  this  yacht  be- 
lieves, and  must  continue  to  believe,  that  Miss  Van- 
derdyke is  Mrs.  Franklin.  You  know  why  as  well  as 
I  do.  That  is  understood,  of  course."  His  question, 
behind  which  there  was  very  palpably  the  suggestion  of 
a  drastic  course  of  action,  achieved  a  bow  from  Mrs. 
Keene.  He  then  pointed  to  a  small  suit-case.  "  Is 
that  all  you've  brought  ?  " 

"  I  had  no  time  to  pack  anything  else,"  she  said. 
"Where  is  Beatrix?" 

"  Below,  settling  for  the  cruise." 


172  SCANDAL 

"  The  cruise  ?  Is  this  to  be  a  cruise  ?  Can  nothing 
prevent  this  rash  act  ?  " 

Franklin  shook  his  head.  "  You  know  Beatrix, 
Mrs.  Keene." 

The  little  woman,  who  had  great  grit  and  even  hero- 
ism beneath  her  indecisive  and  fluttering  exterior,  drew 
herself  up.  "  Very  good,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  do  what 
I  conceive  to  be  my  duty."  All  the  same  she  threw 
an  anxious  glance  about  her.  It  was  quite  obvious  that 
she  was  looking  for  life-belts,  life-boats,  rafts  and  all 
the  other  paraphernalia  of  shipwrecks.  No  one  could 
guess,  nor  did  she  herself  quite  realize,  the  immensity 
of  her  triumph  of  mind  over  matter  in  trusting  herself 
at  sea  or  the  extent  of  the  damage  to  her  sense  of 
propriety  that  was  made  by  her  being  obliged  to  lend 
her  countenance  to  a  quite  indescribable  proceeding. 
If  she  had  imagined  that  she  would  ever  find  herself  a 
companion  to  a  young  woman  who  went  for  a  honey- 
moon with  a  man  to  whom  she  had  not  been  married 
she  would  willingly  have  starved  in  London  or  taken  a 
position  as  a  waitress  in  an  A.  B.  C.  shop. 

"  I  was  not  well  last  night,"  she  said,  wltn  a  quiver 
in  her  voice.  "  I  had  one  of  my  most  severe  attacks 
of  neuralgia.  I  overslept  myself  this  morning.  I  can 
only  think  that  Beatrix  left  me  behind  because  she  was 
too  thoughtful  to  disturb  me.  Mr.  Franklin,  I  am 
not  very  strong.  I  have  had  a  terrible  time  to  get  here. 
You  must  please  forgive  my  agitation." 

Franklin  felt  thoroughly  inclined  to  put  his  arm 
round  the  tremulous  lady's  shoulder  and  say,  "  There, 
there !  "  as  Beatrix  always  did,  and  soothe  her  with  soft 


SCANDAL  173 

words.  It  seemed  to  him  that  she  was,  with  her 
pedantic  and  old-fashioned  ideas,  rather  like  the  Dodo 
in  the  century  to  which  he  belonged,  or  that  she  re- 
sembled a  faded  stuffed  canary  under  a  glass  case  in  a 
room  furnished  and  painted  by  cubists.  "  You  will 
find  your  stateroom  very  comfortable,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  will  do  all  that  I  can  to  make  you  happy  and  con- 
tented. I'm  very  glad  you've  come." 

"  Thank  you !  You  are  kinder  than  my  former 
experience  led  me  to  expect.  And  now,  please,  where 
are  the  stairs  ?  " 

Franklin  smothered  his  laugh.  He  was  glad  for  her 
sake  that  the  mate  was  not  in  earshot.  He  called  up 
one  of  the  deck  boys.  "  Take  Mrs.  Lester  Keene 
below,"  he  said,  "  and  tell  the  chief  steward  to  look 
after  her," 

It  so  happened  that  Mrs.  Keene  was  immediately 
seen  by  Beatrix,  and  before  Franklin  moved  away  he 
heard  her  high,  clear  voice.  "  Brownie,  you  darling ! 
Fancy  seeing  you  here.  I  left  you  with  red  flannel 
round  your  face.  You  must  have  come  by  aeroplane." 
And  then  he  heard  the  sound  of  someone  bursting  into 
tears  and  moved  away. 

It  was  not  until  the  Galatea  had  left  her  mooring 
well  behind  her  that  Malcolm  Fraser  screwed  up  his 
courage  to  face  his  friend.  He  found  Franklin  for- 
ward with  his  arms  folded  and  a  pipe  between  his  teeth, 
watching  the  amazing  skyline  of  the  receding  city,  and 
running  his  eyes  over  the  great  docks  that  lined  the 
banks  of  the  river,  the  gigantic  ferries,  the  impertinent 
tugs  and  a  transatlantic  liner  being  edged  inch  by  inch 


174  SCANDAL 

into  her  berth,  her  portside  all  a-flutter  with  waving 
handkerchiefs. 

For  several  minutes  Fraser  stood  shoulder  to  shoul- 
der with  his  best  pal,  waiting  for  him  to  turn.  He 
would  have  waited  for  an  hour  without  a  word  because 
he  had  the  rare  gift  of  imagination  and  therefore  of 
sympathy.  The  two  are  twins.  But  presently  Frank- 
lin turned  and  there  was  an  irresistible  twinkle  in  his 
eyes.  "  Now  then,"  he  said,  as  though  continuing  a 
conversation,  "  how  the  blazes  did  you  do  it?  " 

To  Fraser  that  twinkle  was  worth  a  great  deal. 
"  Do  you  want  to  know  the  details,  old  man  ?  " 

"  'Course  I  do.  Women  aren't  the  only  curious  ani- 
mals on  earth,  y'  know." 

"  After  you  had  left,"  said  Fraser  gravely,  "  I 
tackled  Beatrix.  I  had  to  wait  until  the  dance  was 
over  and  most  of  the  people  had  gone  to  bed.  Oddly 
enough  I  caught  her  at  a  moment  when  she  was  more 
like  the  little  simple  girl  with  whom  I  used  to  play 
games  as  a  kid  than  I've  seen  her  for  years.  Perhaps 
it  was  due  to  the  moon  or  the  stars, —  or  both.  Any- 
way she  took  my  arm  and  we  wandered  into  the  garden 
and  for  quite  a  long  time  we  talked  of  the  old  days  and 
some  of  the  things  that  she  used  to  dream  about.  I 
think  the  fairies  must  have  been  dancing  somewhere 
near.  Then  I  switched  things  round  to  the  present  and 
told  her,  pretty  plainly,  what  I  conceived  it  to  be  her 
duty  to  do  to  retrieve  herself.  I  spoke  to  her  honestly 
and  bluntly,  like  a  brother,  and  she  was  very  patient 
and  listened  to  me  without  a  word.  I  didn't  exag- 
gerate things  at  all.  I  didn't  see  how  I  could, 


SCANDAL  175 

They've  gone  to  the  whole  lengths  of  exaggeration  al- 
ready. I  talked  about  her  family  and  their  wholesome 
desire  to  avoid  scandal,  and  I  painted  a  picture  of 
what  York  could  do  to  put  the  name  of  Vanderdyke, 
which  stands  so  high,  into  the  kitchen,  the  garage  and 
the  reeking  saloon.  I  pointed  out  that  if,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  she  didn't  do  something  all  against 
the  grain  she  would  jeopardize  the  noble  efforts  of 
Aunt  Honoria  and  outrage  all  the  endeavors  of  her 
father  and  mother  to  build  up  an  aristocracy  in  this 
country.  I  believe  I  must  have  talked  for  half  an  hour 
and  all  the  time  she  sat  with  her  hands  clasped  together 
and  the  moonlight  on  her  face,  more  beautiful  than  I 
have  ever  seen  her  look  and  more  like  the  child  that  she 
used  to  be  before  she  discovered  the  intolerance  of 
wealth  and  had  been  spoiled  by  the  obsequiousness  of 
everybody  round  her.  Just  when  I  thought  that  I  had 
won  my  point  and  was  beginning  to  feel  the  warm 
glow  of  triumph,  she  got  up.  '  My  dear  old  Malcolm, 
no  wonder  you  write  poetry,'  she  said.  '  You  are  a 
sort  of  cherub,  my  dear.  You  have  a  head  —  a  very 
nice  head  —  and  two  wings,  and  that's  all.  All  the 
same  there  is  much  heart  in  your  eloquence  and  an  im- 
mense amount  of  common  sense.  The  only  thing  is,  I 
don't  intend  to  marry  Pelham  Franklin  under  any  cir- 
cumstances whatever,  so  God  bless  you,  old  boy,  and 
good  night.'  And  with  that  she  turned  away,  sang  a 
little  song  and  foxtrotted  through  the  gardens  on  to 
the  terrace  and  into  the  house.  Presently  I  saw  a 
light  in  her  window,  gave  the  whole  thing  up  and  went 
off  to  bed  with  my  tail  between  my  legs.  Imagine  my 


176  SCANDAL 

surprise  when  about  eight  o'clock  this  morning  a  dis- 
creet man-servant  brought  me  a  letter  from  her. 
Here  it  is."  He  slipped  it  out  of  his  pocket  and  read 
it  aloud: 

"  Dear  Poet : 

"  I  have  altered  my  mind  just  to  prove  to  you  that  I 
am  a  woman  after  all,  little  as  you  think  so.  Also, —  two 
reasons  are  better  than  one, —  because  I  am  bored  stiff 
and  have  decided  to  take  a  cruise  on  the  Galatea.  But 
you  must  come,  because  we  shall  need  a  fourth  at  bridge, 
—  make  that  an  absolute  stipulation, —  and  Mrs.  Larpent 
will  make  the  third.  Pack  your  little  trunk,  dear  Mal- 
colm, and  be  ready  immediately  after  breakfast.  Heigh- 
ho,  for  the  wind  and  the  sea." 

"  H'm,"  said  Franklin,  "  she  beats  me." 


XVIII 

As  he  sat  down  to  dinner  that  night  in  the  admirable 
saloon,  wholly  devoid  of  the  frills  and  furbelows  which 
are  so  dear  to  the  hearts  of  incurable  landlubbers, 
Franklin  threw  an  amused  glance  at  Malcolm  Fraser, 
who  read  it,  laughed  and  signalled  back.  "  Yes,  by 
Jove,  a  very  different  table  from  the  one  we're  used  to ! 
How  about  compensations?  " 

Franklin  looked  from  one  guest  to  another,  with 
close  scrutiny.  He  caught  the  meaning  of  Fraser's 
mental  question.  Compensation? 

Beatrix  Vanderdyke,  dressed  as  though  she  were  a 
woman  of  thirty  bound  for  the  opera, —  in  the  highest 
spirits,  her  laugh  ringing  out  frequently ;  Mrs.  Claude 
Larpent,  with  her  irresistible  touch  of  Paris,  her 
fingers  gleaming  with  rings  and  a  queer  Oriental  stone 
which  might  have  been  the  eye  of  some  skeptical  god 
watching  everyone  from  her  hair;  and  Mrs.  Lester 
Keene,  the  very  epitome  of  the  Kensington  of  Thack- 
eray's time,  her  nondescript  hair,  much  touched  with 
grey,  scrupulously  drawn  back  from  her  forehead,  her 
mouse-colored  dress  lightened  by  a  lace  thing  round  her 
shoulders  which  might  easily  have  been  an  anti- 
macassar. 

Malcolm  Fraser  also  ran  his  eye  round  the  table  at 
which  he  had  hitherto  seen  the  open,  healthy  faces  and 


1 78  SCANDAL 

square  shoulders  of  Franklin's  sporting  friends.  He 
was  not  at  all  sure, —  perhaps  because  he  was  a  poet, — 
that  this  new  sight  was  not  more  pleasant  to  him  than 
the  old  one.  There  was,  however,  one  question  that 
he  asked  himself  again.  "  Why  Mrs.  Larpent?  "  He 
was  not  in  any  sense  of  the  word  a  man  of  the  world. 
He  believed  that  all  women  were  chaste  and  devoid  of 
guile,  but  there  was  something  about  Mrs.  Larpent 
which  made  him  a  little  sorry  to  see  her  in  the  com- 
pany of  Beatrix, —  he  didn't  know  why.  The  port- 
holes were  open,  as  the  night  was  hot.  They  framed 
round  patches  of  a  sky  pitted  with  stars.  The  steady 
conscientious  pulse  of  the  engines  and  the  slight  swing 
of  the  yacht  were  the  only  indications  of  her  activity. 
An  excellent  dinner  was  being  served  by  four  expert 
stewards  who  had  devoted  the  most  minute  care  in  the 
decoration  of  the  table  in  honor  of  "  Mrs.  Franklin." 
In  the  gallery  a  string  quartette  with  piano  was  playing 
Boheme,  almost  to  perfection.  There  was  just  the 
slightest  inclination  on  the  part  of  the  pianist  to  synco- 
pate the  music.  The  poor  wretch  had  been  doomed  to 
a  cabaret  for  two  seasons. 

Franklin,  partly  recovered  from  his  shock,  was  de- 
termined to  make  the  best  of  things.  The  sight  of 
Beatrix  in  all  the  glory  of  her  youth  was  a  delight  to 
him.  It  filled  him  with  joy  and  pride  to  see  her  sit- 
ting in  that  yacht  of  his,  which  he  regarded  as  home. 
His  blood  danced  every  time  that  her  laugh  rang  out. 
She  added  something  to  the  atmosphere  of  the  saloon 
which  he  had  always  subconsciously  missed  and  desired. 
Nevertheless  he  told  himself,  and  believed  it  to  be  true, 


SCANDAL  179 

that  he  had  routed  out  of  his  mind  every  thought  of 
making  her  his  wife,  even  in  name.  Her  dislike  of 
him,  expressed  very  definitely,  and  now  shown  by  the 
aloof  but  perfectly  courteous  way  in  which  she  in- 
cluded him  in  the  conversation,  made  the  mere  idea 
of  such  a  thing  impossible  and  absurd.  She  was  on 
board  to  please  herself,  to  carry  out  a  whim  and  an 
impulse  to  do  something  new  and  different,  and  she 
had  taken  care  to  surround  herself  with  a  body  guard 
in  order  to  protect  her.  He  saw  all  that  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  He  said,  as  he  had  said  over  and  over 
again,  "  She  beats  me.  I  can't  compete  with  her.  I 
give  it  up.  She  must  have  her  head.  At  any  rate  all 
this  will  do  something  to  put  York  off  the  scent,  so 
what's  the  use  of  worrying?  I  bow  the  knee  to  autoc- 
racy." That  was  the  mood  of  the  man  who  had  never 
hitherto  allowed  himself  to  be  beaten  by  men  or  beasts. 
Women  were  not  included  in  this  list  for  the  simple 
reason  that  they  had  never  been  permitted  to  interfere 
with  his  way  of  life. 

As  for  Beatrix,  she  was  not  thinking,  dissecting  or 
going  to  the  mental  bother  of  introspection.  She  was 
enjoying  a  new  sensation,  delighting  in  the  thrill  of  a 
dangerous  and  what  would  be  to  most  girls  an  incon- 
ceivable adventure.  She  looked  upon  the  whole  thing 
as  merely  an  episode,  an  act  in  the  drama  of  her  life, 
and  with  enough  sense  of  excitement  to  spur  her  on 
played  her  part  of  Franklin's  wife  with  one  apprecia- 
tive eye  on  herself.  She  believed  that  York  would 
carry  out  his  threat,  knowing  the  man  as  well  as  she 
did,  and  she  knew  that  as  soon  as  the  whole  house  of 


i8o  SCANDAL 

cards  fell  flat,  as  it  was  bound  to  do,  her  family, 
headed  by  Aunt  Honoria,  would  punish  severely. 
They  would  spoil  her  life  at  least  for  a  year.  She  had 
gone  on  the  cruise  because  the  word  "  yacht "  had 
filled  her  with  the  desire  to  smell  the  sea  and  try  a  new 
form  of  amusement.  That  was  all.  Franklin,  either 
as  a  man  or  an  enemy,  or  as  one  who  had  come  to  her 
rescue,  counted  for  nothing.  He  meant  no  more  to 
her  than  Captain  McBean  or  Mr.  Horatio  Jones.  He 
was  merely  the  means  of  providing  her  with  the  anti- 
dote against  boredom.  She  was  out  to  enjoy  a  new 
experience  at  his  expense.  Hurrah  for  the  open  sea! 
Sufficient  for  the  day,  so  long  as  the  day  was  fine  and 
the  people  in  it  kept  her  merry. 

When  it  came  to  Ida  Larpent  and  the  way  in  which 
she  regarded  her  totally  unexpected  presence  on  the 
Galatea,  the  mental  processes  of  her  mind  were  as 
busily  at  work  as  the  mechanical  appliances  of  the 
ship's  engine.  This  was  no  mere  joy-ride  for  her.  It 
was  a  business  trip,  the  chances  of  which  had  been 
grasped  eagerly  with  all  the  cunning  of  a  woman  who 
had  lived  on  her  wits  and  brought  individualism  to  a 
fine  art.  She  was  going  to  use  every  moment  to  her 
own  ultimate  advantage.  The  fact  that  Beatrix  had 
placed  her  among  her  favorites  was  an  admirable  step 
forward.  She  was  clever  enough  to  know  that  the  sun- 
shine of  the  beautiful  young  autocrat's  smile  might  at 
any  moment  cloud  over, —  that  her  reign  as  a  favorite 
was  most  ephemeral.  But  she  had  already  watched 
things  closely  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
marriage  which  had  caused  so  much  rejoicing  among 


SCANDAL  181 

the  Vanderdykes,  romantic  as  it  seemed,  was  an  empty 
and  hollow  affair.  She  saw  very  plainly  that  the  heart 
of  Beatrix  was  utterly  untouched.  She  had  yet  to  dis- 
cover precisely  how  Franklin  had  been  affected.  She 
was  no  optimist,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  Franklin  was 
as  cool  as  Beatrix.  He  had,  however,  a  way  of  hiding 
his  feelings  that  would  make  it  necessary  for  her  to 
put  him  under  her  microscope.  As  things  appeared  on 
the  surface,  at  any  rate,  everything  was  in  her  favor. 
She  measured  herself  against  Beatrix  without  egotism. 
The  girl  had  all  the  advantage  of  youth  and, —  as  her 
knowledge  of  men  told  her, —  many  of  the  disadvan- 
tages. She  was  going  to  set  herself  with  the  utmost 
calculation  to  stir  up  Franklin's  passion.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  the  propinquity  forced  upon  them  all  by 
living  aboard  a  yacht  would  make  that  easy.  She  had 
examined  herself  in  the  mirror  of  her  stateroom  and 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  she  had  never  looked  more 
beautiful  or  so  completely  feminine.  Without  any 
sense  of  loyalty  to  Beatrix,  to  whom  she  was  indebted 
for  this  chance,  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  attract 
Franklin  with  all  the  arts  that  she  possessed.  To  be- 
come his  mistress  meant  absolute  freedom  from  money 
troubles,  and  that  would  be  excellent.  To  become  his 
wife, —  well,  why  not?  The  laws  of  the  country  were 
all  in  her  favor.  Divorce  was  a  hobby,  an  institution, 
and  Beatrix  was  a  worshipper  at  the  altar  of  Some- 
thing New. 

When  it  came  to  Malcolm  Fraser,  whom  Beatrix 
had  called  the  fourth  of  the  party, —  he  was  usually 
the  fourth  of  every  party, —  what  was  he  but  simply 


182  SCANDAL 

a  man  who  could  do  no  more  than  enjoy  the  glamour 
of  the  impossible  —  a  sort  of  star-gazer!  His  love 
for  Beatrix  dominated  his  secret  life  and  he  knew  that 
he  could  show  it  only  in  one  way, —  by  being  her 
friend.  He  had  no  pain  in  his  heart.  He  had  no 
right  to  possess  a  heart  at  all  where  she  was  concerned, 
but  no  one  could  prevent  him  from  placing  her  in  the 
throne  of  it  and  locking  her  in.  And  so  he  just  rev- 
elled in  her  presence  and  was  happy. 

There  remained  little  Mrs.  Lester  Keene,  the  last 
member  of  this  strange  ill-assorted  party,  and  she,  who 
took  everything  seriously,  and  whose  god  was  conven- 
tion, was  undergoing  very  genuine  suffering.  To  be 
herself  a  party  to  any  arrangement  so  unabashed  in  its 
smashing  of  all  the  rules  of  life  was  bad  enough.  Her 
self-respect,  which  meant  so  much  to  her,  was  deeply 
wounded,  and  when  she  thought  of  the  girl  who 
seemed  to  her  to  be  a  sort  of  queen  and  for  whose 
beauty  and  purity  she  had  the  most  intense  admiration 
and  regard,  her  perturbation  became  painful,  even 
tragical.  She  suspected  Franklin.  Like  all  women 
who  have  gone  through  life  looking  at  the  truth 
through  a  key-hole,  herself  hidden,  she  believed  no 
good  of  men.  They  were  all  wolves  in  sheep's  cloth- 
ing. They  were  the  enemies  of  women.  She  con- 
ceived Franklin  to  be  no  different  from  those  worldly 
creatures  of  whom  she  had  read  so  frequently  in  her 
favorite  novels,  most  of  which  had  been  written  in  the 
period  of  her  youth  by  women.  She  was,  therefore, 
most  unhappy.  She  was  also  dreading  sea-sickness. 
Poor  little  lady,  what  a  combination  of  mental  disquiet ! 


XIX 

FRANKLIN  and  Fraser  left  the  dining  saloon  after 
a  brief  talk  and  joined  the  ladies  in  the  little  used 
drawing-room.  They  found  that  the  orchestra,  which 
was  as  much  a  part  of  the  yacht  as  the  engines  and 
invariably  played  Franklin's  favorite  melodies  during 
and  after  dinner,  had  been  dismissed.  The  Victrola 
was  at  work  instead  and  the  voluptuous  strains  of  a 
more  than  usually  saccharine  Viennese  waltz  filled  the 
charming  room. 

Franklin  drew  up  short  at  the  door  and  put  his  hand 
on  Fraser's  arm.  "  Look,"  he  said,  quietly. 

With  absolute  lack  of  self-consciousness  and  a 
nymph-like  grace,  her  lips  wearing  the  smile  of  a  child, 
Beatrix  was  dancing  and  winding  her  way  between 
the  chairs  and  little  tables.  With  her  white  arms  out- 
stretched and  her  hands  moving  like  the  wings  of  a 
bird  she  seemed  to  bring  the  music  to  life  and  to  give 
it  a  sense  of  youth  and  beauty  that  turned  the  room 
into  a  moon-struck  wood  of  thin  trees. 

The  two  men  watched  her  until  the  tune  ran  out 
and  in  the  hearts  of  both  were  love  and  desire. 

Franklin  went  quickly  to  the  Victrola,  wound  it  up 
and  started  the  record  again. 

"  What  a  pity  you  don't  dance,  Malcolm,"  said 
Beatrix,  panting  a  little. 


184  SCANDAL 

"  But  I  do,"  said  Franklin,  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 
He  didn't  imagine  himself  to  be  a  fine  dancer.  He 
had  a  healthy  contempt  of  the  dancing  man  breed, — 
those  anaemic  creatures  who  try  so  hard  to  look  im- 
maculate and  treat  all  women  with  a  tedious  mixture 
of  familiarity  and  condescension.  He  waltzed  well, 
all  the  same,  with  a  perfectly  straight  back,  an  excel- 
lent sense  of  time  and  a  steady  left  arm.  In  fact  he 
danced  like  a  civilized  man  who  had  achieved  the  art 
of  not  being  noticed  in  a  crowd. 

From  her  deep  and  comfortable  chair  under  the 
reading  lamp  Ida  Larpent,  with  a  determined  ex- 
posure of  lace  stocking,  watched  this  little  scene  with 
quiet  amusement.  It  seemed  to  her  that  those  two 
danced  like  people  who  had  been  married  for  years. 
They  said  nothing.  They  didn't  look  at  each  other. 
They  were  as  much  two  people  as  though  they  were 
at  opposite  ends  of  the  earth.  The  almost  grim  ex- 
pression on  Franklin's  face  made  jealousy  impossible. 
So  also  did  the  slight  air  of  social  martyrdom  that 
was  all  about  Beatrix.  Anyone  less  expert  as  a  psy- 
chologist than  Ida  Larpent  could  have  told  that  Bea- 
trix merely  performed  a  duty.  It  would,  however, 
have  taken  a  quite  microscopic  eye  to  have  seen  the 
riotous  blaze  in  Franklin's  mind. 

To  Mrs.  Lester  Keene's  mid-Victorian  way  of 
thinking,  this  "  exhibition,"  as  she  inwardly  called  it, 
watching  from  behind  the  new  number  of  Vogue, 
was  singularly  bad  form.  If  she  had  known  the  ex- 
pressive word  "  stunt "  she  would  have  applied  it  with 
all  her  British  horror  of  such  a  thing. 


SCANDAL  185 

"And  now,"  said  Beatrix,  when  once  more  the 
popular  tune  arrived  at  its  inevitable  and  hackneyed 
conclusion,  "  for  bridge.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

Franklin  rang  for  a  steward.  The  blood  was  in  his 
head.  The  intoxication  of  the  girl's  fragrance  was 
all  about  his  brain.  "  Good  God,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  how  am  I  going  to  go  through  this  and  come  out 
sane?  " 

"  Splendid,"  said  Mrs.  Larpent,  putting  down  "  The 
Dark  Flower."  "  I'd  love  a  rubber  or  two." 

"  And  I,"  said  Fraser, — "  that  is  if  you  don't  want 
to  play,  Mrs.  Keene." 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  never  touch  cards."  The  little 
lady  returned  to  her  astonished  examination  of  the 
drawings  of  wispy  girls  in  freak  garments.  She  in- 
variably waxed  almost  hectic  over  the  bi-monthly  is- 
sues of  her  favorite  journal,  every  word  of  which  she 
read  with  minute  care.  It  was  to  her  rather  like  the 
thing  at  which  a  dog  barks  consistently  and  with  a 
very  fever  of  rage  but  wouldn't  avoid  on  any  account. 

A  steward  appeared.  "  The  card  table,"  said 
Franklin. 

"  But  before  we  play,"  said  Beatrix,  lighting  a  ciga- 
rette, "  perhaps  you'll  tell  us  the  geography  of  the 
yacht.  Pelham,  I  won't  sleep  peacefully  unless  my 
curiosity  is  satisfied.  I  asked  Malcolm  at  dinner  but 
he's  apparently  as  much  of  a  landlubber  as  I  am." 
She  knew  instinctively  that  this  was  the  very  best 
way  to  please  Franklin  and  she  felt  that  she  owed 
him  something  for  her  unsocial  manner  in  the  dining 
saloon.  She  intended  to  enjoy  the  cruise  and  there- 


i86  SCANDAL 

fore  it  would  be  tactful,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  to  keep 
him  in  a  good  temper. 

Franklin  was  obviously  pleased.  The  Galatea  was 
his  favorite  toy.  He  picked  up  a  photograph  album, 
laid  it  open  on  a  table  and  pointed  to  an  admirable 
picture  of  the  yacht  lying  at  anchor  in  the  Biscayne 
Bay. 

Beatrix  bent  over  it.  Her  dress  left  very  little  to 
the  imagination. 

"  I  bought  her  after  the  death  of  her  first  owner," 
he  said.  "  He  was  an  eccentric  invalid,  as  you  will 
see  when  I  explain  certain  things.  She  was  built  in 
the  Clyde  about  eight  years  ago.  Her  tonnage  is  six- 
teen hundred  and  seven,  length  all  over  three  hundred 
and  sixteen  feet,  beam  thirty-five  feet  six  and  she  car- 
ries a  crew  of  forty,  all  told.  You  can  see  how  beau- 
tiful her  lines  are.  To  my  mind  she  has  nothing  of 
her  class  to  •  compete  against.  It's  true  that  some 
sailors  carp  at  one  thing  in  her  appearance, —  the  way 
her  bridge  is  placed.  Do  you  see?  Instead  of  being 
well  forward  as  it  usually  is,  you  will  notice  that  it's 
away  aft, —  only  a  few  feet  from  the  funnel." 

"  Why  ? "  asked  Beatrix,  not  even  mildly  inter- 
ested. 

"  To  prevent  anyone  from  walking  over  the  library. 
A  cranky  idea  of  the  old  man  I  told  you  about.  In 
fact  the  Galatea  was  designed  to  meet  his  peculiar 
notions." 

"  Why  not?  "  said  Beatrix.     "  He  had  the  money." 

"  Quite,"  said  Franklin  drily.  "  Well,  this,  where 
my  finger  is,  is  the  flush  deck,  running  from  the  bows 


SCANDAL  187 

to  the  stern,  broken  here  by  a  well  between  the  fore- 
castle head  and  the  fore  part  of  the  bridge." 

Beatrix  laughed.  "  You're  a  regular  sailor,  aren't 
you?" 

Franklin  went  on.  It  was  good  to  be  so  near  to 
this  bewitching  girl.  He  would  have  liked  to  absorb 
her  attention  for  the  whole  evening.  "  Running  aft 
from  the  bridge  to  within  forty  feet  or  so  of  the  stern 
are  all  the  deck  houses.  Do  you  see?  Here's  the 
library.  Abaft,  here,  the  dining  saloon.  Continu- 
ing aft,  on  the  port  side,  here,  the  pantry,  the  en- 
closed space  over  the  engine-room,  and  on  the  star- 
board side  a  passage  leading  to  this  room  and  the 
writing-room." 

"  And  I  don't  believe  you  ever  use  either,"  said 
Beatrix. 

"  I  don't.  Now  look.  The  roof  and  sides  of  this 
line  of  deck  houses  run  out  a  few  feet  beyond  the 
aftermost  room.  Do  you  notice  that?  " 

"  So  that  your  malade  imaginaire  could  have  a  lit- 
tle sheltered  nook  to  enjoy  forty  winks  in  out  of  the 
wind?" 

"  Yes,  that  was  the  idea.  Very  jolly  it  is  too. 
Here's  the  promenade,  about  nine  feet  broad  and 
smooth  as  a  billiard  ball.  It  continues  across  the 
forepart  of  the  library  and  across  the  afterpart  of  the 
line  of  deck  houses,  see?  So  that  there's  an  oblong 
track  round  most  of  the  yacht,  covered  overhead  with 
a  thick  awning." 

"Ah!,  I  see  myself  taking  exercise  there  morning, 
noon  and  night." 


1 88  SCANDAL 

"  We  all  do,"  said  Malcolm. 

"Well,  about  thirty  feet  from  the  stern,  here, 
there's  a  double  canvas  screen  running  thwartships 
from  one  side  to  the  other,  shutting  off  a  good  space 
for  the  use  of  the  crew.  Under  the  forecastle  head, 
on  the  main  deck,  are  the  officers'  and  petty  officers' 
quarters,  very  comfortable  and  excellent.  Under  the 
library  is  my  sitting-room,  which  runs  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  ship.  This  is  where  we  usually  fore- 
gather,—  I  mean  on  the  bachelor  cruises." 

"  Which  are  now  things  of  the  past,"  said  Beatrix 
imperturbably.  "  Are  we  to  be  permitted  to  peek  into 
this  sanctum  some  day  ?  " 

"  Of  course."     Franklin's  heart  pumped  a  little. 

And  then,  rising  with  her  peculiar  feline  grace,  Mrs. 
Larpent  joined  the  group  round  the  table.  "  All  these 
technicalities  are  Greek  to  me,"  she  said.  "  I  want 
to  know  how  many  guest  rooms  there  are,  how  many 
bathrooms,  whether  the  mirrors  are  full  length, 
whether  you  bought  all  the  rugs  from  the  same  place 
and  if  so  whether  you  got  them  cheaper  and,  in  fact, 
all  those  human  details  that  I  can  understand, —  poor, 
untechnical  me ! " 

Franklin  gave  a  short  laugh  but  was  obviously 
thrown  out.  His  description  of  the  Galatea  was  in 
the  only  language  that  he  knew.  He  was  unable  to 
translate  it  into  woman's  talk. 

Beatrix  was  quick  to  notice  his  quandary.  Nearly 
everything  that  he  had  said  was  altogether  beyond  her 
too  and  gave  her  no  more  intimate  a  picture  of  the 
yacht  than  she  would  have  obtained  from  a  quick 


SCANDAL  189 

glance  at  a  blue-print,  but,  after  all,  she  intended  to  ex- 
plore in  the  morning,  so  what  did  it  matter?  Her 
pricking  conscience  had  alone  brought  the  matter  up. 
"  Never  mind  about  the  furniture,"  she  said.  "  Go 
on  from  where  your  finger  is,  Pelham.  I'm  follow- 
ing you  with  keen  intelligence  and  boundless  inter- 
est." 

Franklin  gave  her  a  grateful  smile.  "  Well,  the 
windows,  here,  abaft  of  my  room  on  the  port  side 
are  the  cabins  of  the  major-domo,  the  Captain,  the 
head  steward,  the  chief  engineer,  the  purser,  an  of- 
ficers' mess  room,  the  ship's  galley,  a  steward's  mess 
room  and  other  cabins.  Over  here  on  the  starboard 
side  are  the  guest  rooms  and  suites, —  twenty  all  told. 
The  lower-deck  is  given  up  to  stores,  coal  bunkers, 
the  engine  room,  the  stoke-hold,  a  stack  of  electric 
accumulators  which  keep  the  electric  lights  going  when 
the  engines  aren't  working,  and  the  gymnasium.  The 
engines  are  designed  not  for  speed  but  for  smooth 
running.  We  can  whack  up  to  twelve  knots  an  hour 
but  our  average  is  eight.  Finally  we  carry  an  ample 
supply  of  boats  as  well  as  two  steam  launches,  one 
burning  coal,  the  other  oil."  He  bowed  and  laughed 
and  said  "  I  thank  you  "  in  imitation  of  the  profes- 
sional guide,  closed  the  album  and  put  it  away,  having 
thoroughly  enjoyed  himself. 

"  And  this  very  beautiful  and  complete  toy," 
thought  Ida  Larpent,  looking  after  the  owner  of  it 
with  calculating  envy  and  admiration,  "  costs  as  much 
to  run  per  annum  as  would  make  an  admirable  capital 
for  a  little  lonely  woman.  My  dear,  you  will  be 


190  SCANDAL 

throwing  away  the  opportunity  of  a  life-time  if  you 
don't  make  yourself  very  precious  to  this  indecently 
wealthy  young  man," 

Then  they  sat  down  to  bridge. 


XX 

THE  third  day  out,  the  semblance  of  peace  and 
contentment  reigning  on  board,  the  Galatea  ran  into 
bad  weather.  The  barometer  had  fallen  sharply  dur- 
ing the  night  and  the  day  broke  behind  a  dull  grey 
curtain  to  windward  which  blotted  out  the  horizon 
and  brought  heavy  rain  as  it  came  over.  Capricious 
shifts  of  wind  in  puffy  spells  made  the  awnings  rattle 
and  the  sea  agitated.  The  Captain  stuck  to  his  course 
until  the  squall  caught  him,  and  then,  in  deference  to 
the  ladies,  ran  with  the  sea  astern.  Before  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  however,  the  wind  fell  away 
and  the  sky  cleared  and  the  sun  came  out  again  to  the 
immense  relief  of  Mrs.  Lester  Keene,  who  had  given 
way  to  seasickness  and  to  thoughts  of  disaster  and 
death. 

The  weather,  like  nearly  everything  else,  had  not 
affected  Beatrix.  With  Mrs.  Larpent  and  Malcolm 
Fraser  as  spectators,  she  spent  most  of  the  morning 
in  the  gymnasium  exercising  her  limbs  and  her  lungs, 
—  the  former  on  the  bars  and  rings  and  the  elec- 
trically-worked horse,  the  latter  by  frequent  bursts  of 
merry  laughter  and  constant  talking.  The  newness  of 
her  surroundings  had  not  yet  worn  off.  The  sense  of 
being  the  heroine  of  a  most  daring  adventure  was  still 
upon  her.  Then  too,  she  found  her  new  friend, 


192  SCANDAL 

whose  peculiar  beauty  had  attracted  her,  entertaining 
and,  better  still,  interesting,  and  her  old  one  as  eager 
to  fetch  and  carry  and  as  willing  to  pay  her  deference 
as  ever.  So  far  as  Franklin  was  concerned  he  re- 
mained the  man  who  had  said  an  unforgivable  thing 
and  who  was,  by  accident,  her  host.  He  counted  only 
as  such. 

But  that  night,  having  laid  a  restraining  hand  upon 
herself,  Nature,  who  does  not  appear  to  be  happy 
unless  she  can  exert  her  power  in  some  way,  churned 
up  a  storm  on  the  yacht.  She  brought  about  two 
incidents  which,  both  quite  unnecessary,  did  much  to 
make  this  so-called  honeymoon  cruise  lose  its  outward 
peacefulness.  It  is  her  invariable  way. 

The  first  happened  before  dinner,  the  second  after, 
and  both  were  led  up  to  by  the  clash  of  temperament. 
The  return  of  the  sun  had  something  to  do  with  the 
first.  Its  warmth  and  brightness  sent  Beatrix's  spir- 
its, already  high,  up  to  set- fair.  Tea  was  served  on 
deck.  To  Franklin's  inward  rage  Fraser  immediately 
became  the  object  of  Beatrix's  whole  attention.  She 
called  him  "  Mally,"  talked  almost  tenderly  about  the 
old  days,  drew  him  out  on  the  subject  of  books  and 
life  and  then,  utterly  ignoring  the  others,  paced  up 
and  down  with  her  arm  through  his,  listening  with  the 
rapt  wonder  of  a  little  girl  while  he  recited  his  recent 
verses  to  her. 

It  was  when  he  had  run  his  not  very  retentive  mem- 
ory down  that  she  began  to  talk  about  herself. 
"  Mally,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  do  you  remember  a 
dream  I  told  you  about  one  spring  morning  when  we 


SCANDAL  193 

were  sitting  on  a  log  at  the  edge  of  those  dear  old 
woods?  You  had  been  ill,  I  think,  and  your  mother 
had  sent  for  you  from  school  to  feed  you  up." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Malcolm.  "  You  were  eight 
or  so,  and  I  had  just  struck  fifteen  and  was  consumed 
with  the  idea  that  I  was  a  man.  I  had  just  introduced 
myself  to  a  razor.  Oh,  a  great  moment  in  the  male 
career !  " 

"  Don't  talk  so  much,  Mally  dear.  This  is  my  in- 
nings. I  told  you  that  I  had  dreamed  that  father 
had  lost  all  his  money,  every  cent  of  it,  and  was 
broken  and  helpless  and  that  mother, —  how  queerly 
right  it  was, —  had  gone  to  bed  permanently  from  the 
shock,  and  then  I  blossomed  into  a  Joan  of  Arc  be- 
cause the  night  before  that  funny  little  French  gov- 
erness, Mademoiselle  Hannebigue,  had  been  reading 
to  me  about  her,  and  I  went  out  into  the  world, —  it 
was  New  York,  of  course, —  to  build  up  a  new  for- 
tune for  my  unfortunate  parents." 

"  What  became  of  Miss  Hannebigue,  by  the  way?  " 

"  That  doesn't  matter.  Don't  drag  red  herrings 
across  our  path.  I  became  a  great  artist  in  about  a 
minute  and  painted  a  picture  that  caused  such  a  sensa- 
tion that  I  sold  it  to  a  gorgeous  person  with  a  golden 
beard  and  blue  eyes  for  oh,  millions  and  millions  of 
dollars.  And  just  before  some  vandal  woke  me  up, 
—  not  Hannebigue  because  she  was  in  mortal  terror 
of  me, —  I  was  carrying  it  all  up  to  father  in  a  big 
brown  bag.  Do  you  remember  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  remember.     Why?" 

Beatrix  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  and  as  Malcolm 


194  SCANDAL 

looked  at  her  beautiful  face  and  long  fine  lashes  and 
the  little  wistful  smile  on  her  lips  he  saw  the  fallen 
log  again,  and  the  young  birches  just  broken  into  leaf ; 
the  little  big-eyed  girl  who  had  ordered  him  about 
and  the  pair  of  new  brown  shoes  that  he  had  put  on 
that  day  and  which  hurt  him  very  much. 

"  Mally,  I  never  read  about  Joan  of  Arc  now,"  she 
said.  "  I'm  ashamed.  Never  again,  as  long  as  I  live, 
shall  I  ever  have  a  chance  to  do  big  things,  and  some- 
times,—  not  very  often, —  but  just  for  a  minute  when 
I  hear  a  wonderful  piece  of  music  or  see  the  sun  go, 
down  as  it  did  last  night, —  I  wish  that  father  had 
really  lost  all  his  money  and  I  was  an  artist  or  some- 
thing working  for  him.  Oh,  Mally,  old  thing,  I'm 
not  really  much  good  these  days  and  I  might  have 
been, —  I  really  might  have  been.  You're  a  poet. 
You  get  closer  to  the  angels  than  ordinary  mortals. 
What  can  I  do?  How  shall  I  become  something? 
Is  there  no  way  for  me  to  justify  having  once  been 
able  to  carry  that  funny  old  bulging  bag  up  to 
father?" 

It  was  Malcolm's  turn  to  say  nothing  for  a  mo- 
ment. From  where  they  stood  he  could  see  Frank- 
lin's clean-cut  profile  as  he  sat  with  his  chin  on  his 
fist  looking  out  to  sea.  And  the  man  who  was  his 
friend  and  whose  story  he  knew,  seemed  to  look  aw- 
fully alone  and  hurt.  And  then  he  spoke,  eagerly, 
with  a  great  and  God-sent  unselfishness.  "  Dear  girl," 
he  said,  "  my  dear  little  girl,  open  your  heart  to  Pel. 
That's  the  way." 

The  next  instant  the  warm  young  arm  was  pulled 


SCANDAL  195 

sharply  away  from  his  own  and  a  scoffing  laugh  was 
carried  off  like  a  bird.  "  Not  in  this  world,"  she 
cried.  "  Not  in  this  world !  " 

And  then,  with  a  little  devil  on  her  shoulder,  the 
same  little  devil  that  had  made  her  do  all  her  foolish, 
impulsive,  inconsistent  things,  she  went  over  to  where 
Franklin  was  sitting  and  stood  with  one  foot  on  the 
deck  chair  vacated  by  Ida  Larpent,  who  had  found  it 
difficult  to  get  any  attention.  The  girl's  brain  was 
suddenly  filled  with  an  impish  desire  to  flick  her  host's 
apparent  imperturbability  with  the  whip  of  sarcasm. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  putting  a  note  of  bonhomie  into 
her  voice  that  Franklin  had  never  heard  before,  and 
liked.  "  Thinking, —  for  a  change  ?  " 

He  got  up  and  stood  with  his  back  to  one  of  the 
iron  supports.  "  Why  for  a  change  ?  "  Good  Heav- 
ens, what  a  picture  she  made,  standing  there! 

"  I've  always  been  under  the  impression  that  sports- 
men never  think." 

Franklin  laughed.  What  did  he  care  what  she  said 
so  that  she  spoke  to  him,  and  he  saw  the  flash  of  her 
teeth,  the  gleam  of  her  dimples,  the  play  of  her  as- 
tounding eyes  ?  "  You  mean,  being  a  sportsman,  I 
don't  need  and  have  not  been  given,  the  necessary 
machinery  for  thinking?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  for  a  moment  go  so  far  as  that,"  she 
said,  with  a  curiously  expressive  gesture  which  com- 
pletely contradicted  her  remark.  "  You  spend  most 
of  your  time  on  the  Galatea,  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  as  much  as  I  can." 

"  I  don't  wonder.     I'm  beginning  to  understand 


196  SCANDAL 

that  there  must  be  something  very  satisfying  in  being 
the  Czar  of  this  little  Kingdom, —  it's  really  the  only 
way  to  feel  the  full  power  of  wealth,  unless  you  work 
and  control  great  interests  and  feed  your  vanity  like 
that.  Democracies  worship  the  monied  man,  I  know, 
but  there  is  really  a  touch  of  the  old  feudal  system  in 
life  on  a  yacht  like  this.  Officers  and  men,  forty  of 
them,  are  your  slaves.  It's  "  Yes,  sir;  No,  sir;  Come 
aboard,  sir;  I'll  make  it  so,  sir,"  all  day  long,  and, 
unlike  a  mere  world,  the  very  yacht  can  be  ordered  to 
change  her  course,  put  in  or  put  out,  at  your  imperial 
command.  Yes,  I  begin  to  feel  the  fascination  of 
the  life  you've  chosen." 

She  said  all  this  thoughtfully,  disguising  the  rank 
impertinence  of  it  under  a  sort  of  nai've  admiration. 

It  puzzled  Franklin.  He  was  too  simple  and  direct 
to  get  her  point  of  view  and  not  willing  to  believe  that 
he  was  being  gratuitously  "  cheeked."  "  You've  got 
me  wrong,"  he  said.  "  I  live  on  the  sea  because  I 
like  it  and  because  I  hate  cities  and  society  and  news- 
papers and  their  gross  publicity.  That's  all." 

She  knew  that  he  was  speaking  the  truth.  She 
knew  also  that  her  elaborate  sarcasm  had  missed  fire. 
She  tried  again.  The  little  devil  was  still  on  her 
shoulder.  "  Oh,  I  see,"  she  said,  acting  astonishment. 
"  You're  like  the  little  boy  who  builds  a  hut  in  the 
back  yard  and  forces  himself  to  believe  that  he's  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  miles  away  from  home.  You 
come  to  sea  to  dodge  the  responsibilities  of  real  life. 
You  float  lazily  about  on  the  water  like  a  sportsman 
and  leave  the  earth  to  be  run  by  mere  men.  Well,  I 


SCANDAL  197 

daresay  there's  something  in  it.  Hullo,  there  goes 
the  first  bugle.  I  must  go  and  dress." 

She  nodded  and  slipped  away  chortling,  perfectly 
certain  that  she  had  let  Franklin  see  how  very  little 
she  thought  of  him,  and  on  the  way  down  to  her  suite 
she  flung  the  little  devil  away  and  paid  her  companion 
a  visit  with  all  the  sympathy  and  tenderness  of  a 
young  Madonna. 

She  was  right.  Franklin  felt  the  cut  of  her  whip 
on  his  conscience.  Many  times  recently,  during  lonely 
hours,  he  had  cursed  himself  as  a  waster  of  time  and 
opportunity  and  wondered  how  much  longer  he  was 
going  to  be  content  to  be  numbered  amongst  the 
drones.  All  the  same  he  bitterly  resented  being 
flicked  by  this  girl,  herself  the  queen  of  drones,  who, 
of  all  the  women  alive,  had  good  reason  to  thank  her 
stars  for  his  sportsmanship.  And  he  went  below 
angry,  dissatisfied  and  indignant.  By  jove,  he  would 
get  one  back  for  this. 

His  chance  came  after  dinner.  He  left  Malcolm 
in  the  drawing-room  waiting  for  the  bridge  table  to  be 
set,  heard  the  Victrola  on  deck  and  went  out  to  find 
Beatrix  all  alone,  dancing  like  the  spirit  of  spring. 
Ida  Larpent,  seeing  something  in  his  eyes  that  drew 
her  out  of  her  chair,  followed  him  and  hid.  He  went 
up  to  Beatrix.  "  Dance  with  me,"  he  said  and  took 
her  rather  roughly  in  his  arms.  He  felt  the  urge  of 
holding  her  as  he  had  never  felt  it  before.  His  very 
anger  fired  his  passion.  He  would  show  this  un- 
broken thoroughbred  that  he  was  a  man  as  well  as  a 
sportsman.  And  so  he  held  her  tight,  mad  with  the 


198  SCANDAL 

gleam  of  her  shoulders  and  the  scent  of  her  hair, 
danced  her  breathless  and,  as  the  music  stopped,  im- 
prisoned her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  lips  again  and 
again. 

Ida  Larpent  nearly  screamed.  The  pain  of  her  jeal- 
ousy was  unbearable. 

Beatrix  fought  herself  free  and  stood  panting 
against  the  rail.  And  as  she  stood  there  with  heaving 
breasts  and  her  hand  on  her  mouth,  that  unforgivable 
sentence  which  had  burned  itself  on  her  vanity  seemed 
to  stand  out  in  letters  of  fire  on  the  deck  house.  "If 
you  and  I  were  the  only  two  living  people  on  a  desert 
island  and  there  was  not  the  faintest  hope  of  our  ever 
being  taken  back  to  the  world,  I  would  build  you  a 
hut  at  the  farthest  end  of  it  and  treat  you  as  a  man." 
This  assault,  this  attack,  was  all  the  more  nauseating 
because  of  its  apparent  cold-bloodedness,  because  it 
was  made  by  the  man  who  had  dared  to  say  those 
words  to  her.  For  a  moment,  with  the  blood  in  her 
head,  she  was  overcome  with  a  desire  to  cry  out  for 
servants  and  order  them  to  kill  that  man.  All  that 
was  imperious  in  her  nature  craved  for  instant  punish- 
ment. Then,  looking  at  the  blaze  in  Franklin's  eyes 
and  mistaking  it  for  the  beast  in  him,  she  mastered 
herself  and  turned  cold. 

"  Just  now,"  she  said,  "  I  called  you  a  Czar.  I  was 
wrong.  You're  a  polished  gun-man." 

Franklin  laughed.  He  was  still  drunk  with  the 
taste  of  her  lips.  "  Can't  a  man  kiss  his  wife  on  their 
honeymoon  if  he  feels  like  it?  " 

Beatrix  put  out  both  hands  to  keep  him  away.     She 


SCANDAL  199 

was  as  white  as  moonlight  and  her  eyes  shone  like 
stars. 

Ida  Larpent  almost  left  her  place  to  catch  every 
word. 

"  Wife !  Thank  God  you  will  never  be  able  to  call 
me  that." 

Franklin  went  nearer, —  within  an  inch  of  those  two 
sentinel  hands.  "  I  didn't  begin  calling  you  that.  You 
chose  the  word,  not  I."  The  way  she  had  of  putting 
him  in  the  wrong  always,  of  making  him  a  brute  who 
had  tricked  her  into  this  impossible  position  was 
mighty  difficult  to  bear. 

Holding  her  breath,  amazed  and  delighted  at  her 
sudden  and  unexpected  insight  into  this  marriage  busi- 
ness which  had  always  puzzled  her,  Ida  Larpent 
watched  these  two  young  people  as  a  cat  watches  mice, 
—  the  girl  standing  out  against  the  dark  background 
of  sky  in  all  the  pride  of  youth,  her  bare  shoulders 
outlined  by  the  moonlight;  the  man,  tall,  wiry  and 
amazingly  vital,  bending  slightly  forward,  with  his 
hands  clenched ;  the  silence  hardly  broken  by  the  regu- 
lar pulse  of  the  engines,  the  humming  of  the  breeze 
and  the  soft  swish  of  the  sea. 

"  This  is  the  end,"  said  Beatrix. 

"The  end,— how?" 

"  You  will  put  me  ashore." 

"Where?" 

"  I  don't  care.     Anywhere." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  I  tell  you,  this  is  the  end." 

"  You're  wrong.     This  is  the  beginning." 


200  SCANDAL 

"  I  don't  intend  to  argue.  I  state  as  a  fact  that  you 
will  put  me  ashore  to-morrow.  Whatever  happens  I 
am  not  going  to  live  this  lie  any  longer.  Now  let  me 
pass." 

Franklin  went  closer.  The  two  hands  were  against 
his  chest.  "  You  amuse  me,"  he  said.  "  It  isn't  for 
you  to  give  orders  here.  I'm  Czar  of  this  Kingdom, 
remember.  You  chose  to  come  aboard  and  you'll  stay 
aboard  as  long  as  it  suits  me." 

"  You're  an  optimist,"  she  said,  scoffingly. 

"  Very  likely.  I'm  also  human  and  I'm  on  my 
honeymoon."  He  caught  her  by  the  wrists  and  before 
he  could  control  himself,  kissed  her  again,  threw  her 
hands  away  and  stood  back.  He  was  afraid  of  what 
he  might  do  next. 

Beatrix  suppressed  a  cry,  and  drew  the  back  of  her 
hand  across  her  mouth.  "  Once  more  I'm  wrong,"  she 
said.  "  You're  not  a  gun-man.  You're  a  prize- 
fighter. May  I  be  allowed  to  go  now  ?  " 

"  To  the  devil  for  all  I  care,"  said  Franklin. 

"  Thank  you.  I  prefer  the  bridge  table."  And  he 
watched  her  go,  walking  like  a  young  Diana. 

Ida  Larpent,  with  the  tumult  of  a  new  chance  in  her 
queer  heart,  dodged  away. 

Then  Franklin  turned  his  face  to  the  stars.  He  was 
angry,  sore, —  and  ashamed.  But  as  he  stood  there, 
face  to  face  with  Nature,  he  said  to  himself,  "  One 
day  I'll  make  that  girl  ache  for  my  kisses  as  badly  as  I 
ache  for  hers  to-night, —  so  help  me  God !  " 


XXI 

IDA  LARPENT  was  responsible  for  the  second  inci- 
dent. 

With  an  amount  of  self-control  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances seemed  to  Franklin  to  be  almost  incon- 
ceivable, Beatrix  played  bridge  until  after  midnight. 
She  went  into  the  drawing-room  with  a  high  head  and 
a  radiant  smile  and  began  by  saying  "  Mally  dear,  you 
will  be  my  partner,  and  we  will  play  together  until  sun- 
rise, if  you  like."  And  as  every  hand  was  dealt  for  the 
remainder  of  the  sitting  she  babbled  and  laughed  and 
said  little  witty  things  that  set  the  poet  chuckling  and 
won  admiration  from  the  woman  of  the  world.  And 
all  the  while  she  smoked,  telling  Mrs.  Lester  Keene, 
when  that  uncompanionable-companion  ventured  to  re- 
monstrate, that  she  was  no  longer  a  debutante  and  if 
she  wanted  to  set  up  a  smoker's  heart,  well,  she  could. 
Every  now  and  then,  too,  perhaps  to  prove  the  fact 
to  Franklin  that  at  any  rate  there  was  one  man  aboard 
who  could  be  trusted,  she  leant  across  the  table  and 
touched  Malcolm's  hand.  It  made  him  very  happy. 
He  was  proud  to  be  treated  like  a  brother. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Mrs.  Keene  sighed,  began  to  ar- 
range the  magazines  on  the  table  at  her  elbow  and  said 
"  Dear  me,  how  very  late  it  is,"  several  times,  and 
finally  got  up  and  wandered  aimlessly  about  the  room. 
She  hadn't  the  courage  to  say  frankly  and  honestly 


202  SCANDAL 

"  Now,  dear  Beatrix,  it's  time  you  went  to  bed. 
You've  played  enough  and  smoked  enough  and  you 
need  all  the  sleep  you  can  get,"  but  in  the  inevitable 
manner  of  all  weak  people  she  endeavored  to  get  her 
point  by  a  series  of  the  kind  of  nerve-wracking,  un- 
spoken hints  which  are  generally  rewarded  by  a  few 
sharp  and  even  unkind  words.  Not  so  from  Beatrix. 
Noticing  the  worthy  woman's  restlessness  and  recog- 
nizing her  intention  she  cried  out,  "  Brownie,  you  really 
ought  to  have  a  nurse.  Eleven  o'clock  and  still  up, — 
and  you  haven't  got  over  that  bad  attack !  Run  along 
to  bed,  dear,  and  if  I'm  not  too  late  I'll  peep  in  for  a 
word  or  two." 

Malcolm,  not  unsympathetic,  smiled  a  little  to  see  the 
reluctant  way  in  which  the  poor  little  rotund  soul 
obeyed  the  command  of  her  princess. 

It  was  a  quarter  past  twelve  when  Beatrix  drew 
away  from  the  table  as  a  rubber  ended.  "  Thank  you," 
she  said,  "  that  sees  me  through.  Good  night,  Ida, 
sleep  well.  Good  night,  Mally  dear.  For  a  poet  you 
play  a  wonderfully  sound  game."  And  then,  with  an 
exquisite  touch  of  shyness  that  took  Mrs.  Larpent's 
breath  away,  staggered  Malcolm  and  nearly  made 
Franklin  jump  out  of  his  skin,  she  looked  up  at  him 
and  added,  "  I  won't  say  good  night  to  you,"  and  went 
out  singing  a  little  song  beneath  her  breath. 

It  was  so  well  done,  with  an  art  so  true,  an  inflection 
so  full  of  meaning,  that  for  an  instant  Mrs.  Larpent 
asked  herself  if  the  angry  and  definite  words  which 
she  had  recently  overheard  had  ever  been  said. 

They  left  Malcolm  dazed.     Was  she,  after  all,  mar- 


SCANDAL  203 

ried  to  his  old  friend?  They  were  the  words  of  a 
wife. 

The  first  shock  over,  Franklin  understood.  She 
had  let  him  see  that  he  was  a  creature  to  whom  she 
did  not  bid  good  night  disguised  in  the  soft  voice  and 
inviting  manner  that  was  intended  to  keep  Mrs.  Lar- 
pent  ignorant  of  the  true  state  of  affairs. 

"  I'll  go  over  the  score  in  the  morning,"  he  said, 
"  and  we  can  settle  then.  Malcolm,  I'm  going  to  write 
a  few  letters  to-night,  so " 

"  All  right,  old  man.  I'll  turn  in  right  away."  He 
wondered  if  he  did  not  look  a  little  like  the  woman 
at  whom  he  had  smiled  earlier  in  the  evening. 

"  So  will  I,"  said  Mrs.  Larpent.  "  This  is  all  very 
delightful.  I  sleep  better  in  this  gently-rocking  cradle 
than  I've  ever  done  before.  Well,  good  night."  She 
divided  a  smile  between  the  two  men  and  glided  away, 
as  graceful  and  as  silky  as  a  panther. 

Franklin  let  out  his  foot  and  kicked  a  box  of 
matches,  that  had  fallen  on  the  floor,  into  the  chest  of 
a  sleepy-eyed  young  steward,  who  was  already  packing 
up  the  bridge  table.  "  I'm  sorry,"  he  said.  If  he  had 
had  his  way  at  that  moment,  he  would  have  kicked 
the  earth  into  the  limbo  of  forgotten  things  and 
tumbled  after  it  over  the  edge. 

Malcolm  followed  him  out.  He  could  see  what  was 
going  on  in  the  mind  of  the  man  he  knew  so  well, — 
the  man  into  whose  life  no  woman  had  come  to  tor- 
ture and  disturb  till  then.  "  Old  man,"  he  said,  "  if 
I  can  be  of  any " 

Franklin  wheeled  'round  and  put  his  hand  on  Mai- 


204  SCANDAL 

colm's  shoulder.  "  No,  no,  my  dear  chap.  You 
can't  help,  not  even  you.  Damned  fools  always  pay 
for  their  mistakes.  So  long." 

He  had  been  in  his  room  for  ten  minutes, —  walk- 
ing, walking,  with  his  hands  clenched  and  the  fever 
of  love  boiling  his  blood,  all  alive  to  the  fact  that  the 
girl  who  called  herself  his  wife  was,  figuratively  speak- 
ing, in  reach  of  his  hungry  hand,  when  someone 
knocked  softly  on  the  door. 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  I,"  said  Ida  Larpent.  She  shut  the  door  softly 
behind  her.  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that  she  had  been  in  Frank- 
lin's own  particular  room,  but  heretofore  she  had  seen 
it  with  daylight  streaming  through  the  portholes.  It 
seemed  to  be  warmer  and  more  intimate  and  far  more 
suited  for  her  purpose  at  that  quiet  hour,  lit  only  by 
one  shaded  reading  lamp. 

There  was  a  curious  confidence  in  her  manner  which 
puzzled  even  Franklin,  unversed  in  the  ways  and 
moods  of  women  as  he  was.  She  took  it  for  granted 
that  she  was  welcome,  and  deliberately  looked  about 
for  the  most  comfortable  chair  in  the  manner  of  one 
who  had  the  right  to  his  room  at  any  time. 

"  Where  would  you  advise  me  to  sit  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  don't  mean  to  criticise  or  carp  when  I  say  that  this 
Holy  of  Holies  of  yours  is  more  like  the  smoking 
room  in  a  man's  club  than  anything  else.  It  fits  your 
character  like  a  glove,  Pelham.  But, —  I  need  soft 
things  and  cushions,  you  know.  Do  what  you  can  for 
me." 


SCANDAL  205 

Franklin  cleared  a  sofa  of  lines  of  fishing  tackle  and 
a  double-barrelled  gun  and  collected  his  only  two  cush- 
ions. "  How  will  this  do  ? "  he  said,  showing  no 
signs  of  his  irritation  and  impatience  at  the  sight  of 
her. 

She  placed  herself  full  stretch,  worked  the  cush- 
ions into  place  with  her  white  shoulders  and  heaved 
a  little  sigh  of  content. 

She  was  too  pleased  with  her  lace  stockings  to  hide 
them. 

"May  I  smoke?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Franklin.  Good  Lord, 
was  she  there  for  the  night ! 

For  some  few  moments  she  sat  in  silence  looking 
interestedly  about  her,  with  a  quiet  air  of  proprietor- 
ship. She  inhaled  two  or  three  mouthfuls  of  smoke 
and  let  it  trickle  out  of  her  slightly  Oriental  nostrils. 
In  her  dark  hair,  that  was  drawn  tightly  across  her 
forehead,  the  strange  stone  glittered.  She  made  an 
attractive,  if  somewhat  erotic,  picture  sitting  there,  so 
slight  and  so  feminine  in  her  white  satin  dress  cut 
with  impish  ability  to  the  very  limit  of  decency. 

Then  she  turned  amused  eyes  on  Franklin,  who  was 
standing  watching  her,  trying  to  discover  what  was 
behind  this  obviously  well-planned  visit. 

"  All  men  are  liars,  saith  the  prophet,  and  you,  my 
dear  Pelham,  very  palpably  hold  a  diploma  in  class 
A."  She  laughed  quietly,  rather  pleased  with  her  way 
of  breaking  the  ice. 

"Think  so?"  What  on  earth  did  the  woman 
mean? 


206  SCANDAL 

"  You  undemonstrative,  self-contained  men  lie  far 
more  unsuccessfully  than  the  Latins.  One  looks  for 
a  certain  amount  of  duplicity  from  them.  Their  wine 
and  climate  and  the  quickness  of  their  wits  makes 
truthfulness  almost  impolite.  Much  the  same  point  of 
view  is  held  of  the  Irish,  who  have  an  inherent  dis- 
belief in  the  mere  truth.  The  strong  streak  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  in  you ,  which  gives  you  a  horror  of  pulling 
down  the  fourth  wall  behind  which  you  hide  your 
sentimentality  puts  one  off.  What  one  takes  for  hon- 
est inarticulation  and  shyness  is  really  a  well-thought- 
out  pose,  isn't  it?  You  manage  admirably  to  give 
the  impression  of  rather  aloof  integrity,  an  unex- 
pressed contempt  for  dodgers.  It  is  historical,  all  the 
same,  how  artfully  you  can  live  a  double  life  and 
achieve  a  statue  in  the  market-place." 

This  wordiness  bored  Franklin.  He  hated  phrase- 
making.  Also  it  was  late  and  he  wanted  to  go  to  bed 
to  sleep  and  be  healthy.  "  The  prophet  said  another 
good  thing,"  he  replied.  "  Cut  the  cackle  and  come 
to  the  'osses.  Did  you  ever  hear  that?" 

She  laughed  again.  "  You  know  that  I  have  a 
horse  or  two  then  ?  " 

"  Would  you  be  here  if  you  hadn't?  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  have  come  for  the  pleasure  of 
being  with  you,  alone  ?  " 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  put  it  like  that." 

Mrs.  Larpent  flecked  away  the  ash  of  her  cigarette. 
"  Sarcasm  doesn't  suit  you,"  she  said  sharply.  "If 
you  mean  to  imply  that  I  am  here  for  money,  you  are 
wrong." 


SCANDAL  207 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  imply  that,"  said  Franklin.  "  On 
my  honor." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  was  silent  again.  The 
conscientious  beat  of  the  engines  made  a  sort  of  tune. 
Then  she  got  up  and  faced  him,  dropping  artificiality. 
"  Why  did  you  tell  me  you  were  married  ?  " 

"  Ah !  "  thought  Franklin,  "  it  is  that,  then."  He 
said  nothing.  He  was  no  match  for  women. 

"  Couldn't  you  have  been  honest  with  me,  of  all  peo- 
ple? You  know  my  feelings  for  you.  I  was  above 
board.  Whatever  the  reason  for  hatching  this  ex- 
traordinary story  I  wouldn't  have  given  you  away.  I 
would  have  helped  you." 

"  I  can't  discuss  this  with  you,"  said  Franklin,  "  you 
were  at  the  Vanderdykes.  You  saw  the  papers. 
Beatrix  is  on  the  yacht.  There  it  is.  I  can't  see  any 
reason  why  you  should  say  that  she  and  I  are  not  mar- 
ried." 

"  Can't  you  ?  Haven't  I  seen  you  together  for  the 
last  three  days?  Wouldn't  my  eyes  be  the  first  to 
notice  any  sign  of  love  or  affection  between  you,  or 
even  toleration  ?  I  came  on  the  yacht  expecting  to  be 
made  to  suffer  the  jealous  agony  of  the  damned  and 
I  find, —  it's  easy  enough, —  that  this  honeymoon  is 
a  farce.  You  are  a  bachelor  entertaining  two  duly 
chaperoned  women." 

What  could  Franklin  do  but  lie?  "Beatrix  is  my 
wife,"  he  said,  "  and  the  way  in  which  we  treat  each 
other  is  our  affair." 

"  Oh,  no,  believe  me,"  said  Mrs.  Larpent  quickly. 
"  That's  where  you're  wrong.  I  am  in  this.  You 


208  SCANDAL 

were  on  the  verge  of  loving  me  before  Beatrix  cropped 
up.  You  may  decline  to  accept  this  as  a  fact  but  I 
tell  you  that  you  were,  and  I  know.  You  stand  there 
looking  at  me  in  amazement  because  I  am  not  afraid 
or  ashamed  to  tell  the  truth.  Women  are  more  or  less 
a  mystery  to  you  and  you've  got  a  rooted  idea  that 
we  must  go  through  life  hiding  our  souls  behind  light 
laughter  and  lace  veils.  And  so  we  do  until  the  in- 
evitable hour  when  we  come  out  into  the  open  to  fight 
for  love.  This  is  my  hour,  Pelham,  and  I  stand  in 
front  of  you  as  common  and  as  human  as  a  peasant 
woman  or  a  squaw." 

Her  voice  shook  with  emotion  and  she  seemed  to 
Franklin  to  be  taller  and  more  beautiful  and  more  dig- 
nified than  he  had  ever  seen  her.  All  the  same  he 
wished  to  Heaven  that  both  these  women  had  never 
come  into  his  life,  that  he  were  still  a  free  agent,  a 
mere  sportsman,  as  Beatrix  called  him  so  scornfully, 
the  captain  of  his  fate. 

"  I  don't  like  your  talking  like  this,"  he  said,  with 
a  curiously  boyish  bluntness  and  awkwardness.  "  It 
isn't  fair  to  yourself  —  or  me." 

"  I'm  not  thinking  altogether  about  you  to-night, 
my  dear.  I  said  that  this  is  my  hour,  my  fight,  the 
moment  when  I  let  you  see  me  as  I  am.  Now  listen. 
I  overheard  your  quarrel  with  Beatrix  on  deck  this 
afternoon.  I  deliberately  eavesdropped.  I  don't 
want  to  know  why  you  and  she  are  playing  this  queer 
game.  It  doesn't  interest  me.  From  the  way  you 
kissed  her,  without  loving  her  in  the  very  least,  I  saw 
that  what  you  want  is  what  I  want.  You  are  free. 


SCANDAL  209 

I  am  free.  We  neither  of  us  owe  allegiance  to  a 
living  creature.  I  love  you.  You  are  the  first  man 
who  has  made  me  understand  the  pain  and  ache  of 
love.  I  make  no  bargain.  I  ask  for  no  bond.  I  just 
want  you.  Take  me." 

She  held  out  her  white  arms,  with  her  head  thrown 
back  and  her  lips  slightly  parted  and  her  eyes  half 
closed.  There  was  something  utterly  simple  and  in  a 
way  fine  about  her.  It  wasn't  so  much  an  appeal  that 
she  made  as  an  offer  of  fellowship.  Nature  spoke  in 
her  voice  and  stood  alluring  in  her  presence. 

Perhaps  because  of  the  subtle  sense  of  isolation  that 
the  open  sea  gives,  or  of  the  wonderful  silence  of  the 
night,  or  of  the  overwhelming  strength  of  her  desire, 
Ida  Larpent  was  nearer  sincerity  in  what  she  said  than 
she  had  ever  been.  It  wasn't  only  because  she  saw  a 
chance  to  catch  Franklin  on  the  rebound  that  she  had 
gone  into  his  room.  She  had  argued  in  cold  blood 
that  by  becoming  his  mistress  she  would  strengthen 
her  position,  put  a  claim  upon  his  sense  of  honor  and 
win  her  way  to  independence.  But  under  the  stress 
of  genuine  emotion  these  sordid  calculations  lifted  like 
hawks  and  left  her  a  woman  in  love,  a  very  woman. 

Franklin  proved  that  he  was  very  much  of  a  man. 
To  him  love  and  its  rewards  were  only  good  if  they 
were  won  by  fighting.  They  were  the  spoils  of  the 
chase.  This  inversion  of  the  old  right  way  was  dis- 
tressing, chilling  and  rather  indecent.  What  to  say 
and  how  to  say  it  left  him  wordless.  He  would  rather 
have  found  himself  facing  a  lion  with  two  empty 
barrels.  Then  he  told  the  truth.  "  You're  very 


210  SCANDAL 

kind,"  he  said.     "  But  I  love  Beatrix  and  I'm  going 
to  be  true  to  that." 

Ida  Larpent  dropped  her  arms.  Just  for  an  in- 
stant the  supreme  mortification  of  being  turned  down 
put  a  red  mist  in  front  of  her  eyes.  She  could  have 
fallen  upon  Franklin  and  struck  him  again  and  again. 
Then  the  sense  of  self-preservation  came  to  her  res- 
cue. Her  cunning  returned  and  with  it  the  vista  of  a 
doubtful  and  tricky  future.  She  hid  her  disappoint- 
ment and  humiliation  and  impatience  behind  a  perfect 
piece  of  acting  and  told  herself  that,  after  all,  Frank- 
lin was  difficult  and  different  because  he  was  a  sports- 
man. She  held  out  her  hand  and  said,  in  a  very  sweet 
voice,  "  I  love  you.  You  know  where  to  find  me  when 
you  need  a  friend,"  and  went  away  quickly  before  she 
might  be  moved  to  spoil  the  effect  of  her  lack  of 
drama.  She  believed  that  in  this  way  she  would  win 
a  warm  place  in  Franklin's  esteem, —  the  first  step  to 
the  goal  that  she  intended  to  gain  by  hook  or  crook, — 
and  she  was  right. 


XXII 

BEATRIX  slept  too  late  the  following  morning  to 
take  her  usual  exercise  in  the  gymnasium.  She  was 
called  at  eight-thirty  by  Helene,  who  dared  not  give 
her  less  than  half  an  hour  in  which  to  get  ready  for 
breakfast  at  the  luxurious  hour  of  nine.  It  was  a 
delicious  morning,  with  the  sea  in  a  very  gracious 
mood,  the  sky  blue  and  cloudless  and  a  gentle  breeze 
which  brought  the  taste  of  salt  to  the  lips. 

Waking  after  a  dreamless  night,  Beatrix  found  the 
sun  pouring  through  the  portholes  of  her  state-room, 
caught  the  infection  of  health  and  high  spirits,  sprang 
out  of  bed,  gave  the  sturdy  Breton  a  cheery  word,  went 
into  the  bathroom  and  alternately  sang  and  whistled 
one  of  Jerome  Kern's  catchy  little  tunes, —  while  the 
French  girl  gave  thanks.  The  world  was  worth  liv- 
ing in  when  her  mercurial  mistress  found  it  so  —  oth- 
erwise death  held  many  charms. 

It  was  an  easy  matter  to  dress  Beatrix  for  the  morn- 
ing,—  a  white  silk  shirt  with  a  turned  down  collar,  a 
grey-blue  jersey  cloth  skirt  with  stockings  to  match, 
white  shoes  with  brown  strips  and  a  man's  tie  of  blue 
and  white.  In  these  she  stood  in  front  of  a  glass  and 
turned  about  in  careful  examination  before  throwing 
a  little  smile  of  congratulation  at  herself  and  her  hand- 
maiden, "  I  don't  give  a  single  whoop  what  the  fool 


212  SCANDAL 

fashions  may  ordain,  Helene,"  she  said,  "  the  too 
short  skirt  is  for  Coney  Island  only  and  makes  women 
look  either  comic  or  pathetic,  according  to  their  weight. 
See  that  I  never  have  anything  shorter  than  this, 
won't  you  ?  " 

Murmuring  a  suitable  reply  and  blessing  her  patron 
saint  for  the  good  day,  Helene  opened  the  door  and 
Beatrix  passed  out,  touching  the  girl's  cheek  with  the 
tips  of  kindly  fingers.  "  We  go  ashore  to-day,"  she 
said,  "  I  will  let  you  know  when  to  pack." 

Ah,  there  was,  then,  a  fly  in  the  amber!  Helene 
gave  one  of  those  exquisitely  eloquent  gestures,  that 
are  peculiar  to  the  Latin  race,  and  sat  down  suddenly, 
her  eyebrows  almost  lost  behind  her  straight  cut 
fringe.  "What  a  life!"  she  said,  addressing  the 
whole  suite.  "  Joost  as  we  settle  and  tink  to  breathe, 
—  up  and  away.  Joost  as  Mistare  Jones  breaks  his 
Engleesh  ice, —  we  go.  I  leave  a  republic  and  come 
to  a  democracy  and  I  fall  into  the  entourage  of  a  mon- 
arch!" 

From  which  it  will  be  seen  that  Horatio  Jones  had 
been  playing  the  sailor  again. 

And  then  Beatrix  went  into  the  stateroom  of  Mrs. 
Lester  Keene.  "  Why,  Brownie  dear,  what's  the 
matter  ?  Have  you  had  a  bad  night  ?  " 

The  little  lady  was  sitting  up  in  bed  in  an  early 
Victorian  white  linen  night  dress  with  a  discreet  touch 
of  lace  about  the  high  neck.  Her  mousey  hair  was 
still  done  for  the  night  and  contained  several  long 
brown  kid  curlers  about  her  forehead.  Her  face  was 
pale  and  a  little  petulant  as  of  one  who  has  a  griev- 


SCANDAL  213 

ance.  She  might  have  been  one  of  Cruikshank's 
drawings  come  to  life. 

"  I  heard  every  hour  strike  until  five,"  she  said, 
"  and  my  neuralgia  very  nearly  made  me  scream." 

"  Oh,  you  poor  dear  old  thing.  I  am  sorry !  Why 
didn't  you  come  and  call  me?  I  don't  know  what  I 
could  have  done  but  at  any  rate  I  could  have  listened 
to  your  tale  of  woe  and  it  always  does  one  good  to 
keep  someone  else  awake  when  one  can't  sleep,  doesn't 
it?" 

She  bent  over  the  devoted  companion  and  put  her 
head  gently  against  her  breast  as  if  it  were  the  head 
of  a  child. 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,"  whimpered  Mrs.  Keene,  "  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  get  up  in  time  for  breakfast  and 
I  do  so  hate  being  unpunctual." 

"  Don't  worry,  dear  little  Brownie.  I  tell  you 
what.  You  and  I  will  have  breakfast  here.  Shall 
we?  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  a  most  important 
thing  and  afterwards  you  shall  have  a  little  sleep  and 
then  Helene  shall  dress  you.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Dear  Beatrix,  you're  very  kind.  I  should  like 
nothing  better,  but " 

"  Don't  but.  No  sooner  said  than  done,"  and  Bea- 
trix rang  for  a  stewardess.  "  Now,  here  are  your 
dressing  gown  and  slippers.  Jump, —  that  is,  strug- 
gle out  of  bed  and  I'll  have  you  all  ready  by  the  time 
breakfast  comes." 

Mrs.  Keene's  attack  of  neuralgia  had  been  very 
painful.  She  had  really  heard  several  hours  slip  by, 
but,  for  the  pleasure  and  ego-warming  of  having  Bea- 


214  SCANDAL 

trix  wait  upon  her  and  say  kind  things  she  would  most 
willingly  have  undergone  twice  the  pain  and  almost 
total  sleeplessness.  Beatrix  knew  this.  Without  con- 
ceit or  the  smallest  suggestion  of  inflated  vanity,  she 
was  aware  of  the  fact  that  she  was  making  her  little 
old  friend  and  flatterer  quite  happy.  Her  training 
among  sycophants  had  made  her  an  expert  in  playing 
upon  the  feelings  of  those  about  her.  The  unbeliev- 
able and  unhealthy  wealth  which  had  placed  a  golden 
halo  round  her  head  had  cultivated  in  her  the  gift,  pe- 
culiar to  Royalty,  of  dealing  out  easily  given  favors, 
little  acts  of  kindness  which  bound  her  subjects  more 
closely.  This  dangerous  knowledge  acquired  as  a 
child  made  her  as  dexterous  in  striking  answering 
notes  as  though  she  were  a  professional  pianist.  Her 
instrument  was  temperament  and  she  was  a  past-mis- 
tress in  reading  character. 

The  stewardess  took  the  order,  hurried  to  carry  it 
out,  and  presently  found  "  Mrs.  Franklin  "  arranging 
her  companion  among  many  cushions  on  a  sofa  near 
the  table.  A  message  had  been  sent  to  the  major- 
domo  that  the  two  ladies  would  be  absent  from  the 
dining-saloon. 

"  Well,"  said  Beatrix,  pouring  out  tea,  "  well, 
Brownie,  and  how  do  you  like  the  sea  ?  " 

Mrs.  Keene  had  removed  her  curlers  and  so  had 
regained  her  sense  of  propriety.  Curlers  somehow 
stood  to  her  as  very  intimate  things.  She  felt  in  them 
as  most  nice  women  do  when  they  are  caught  by  men 
with  their  hair  down.  "  My  dear,  I  shall  never  be 
anything  but  scared  to  death  away  from  land.  This 


SCANDAL  215 

is  a  very  beautiful  yacht,  of  course,  with  every  mod- 
ern convenience  and  invention,  but  I  dread  to  think 
what  might  happen  to  her  in  a  storm.  I  am  sure  that 
I  shall  not  be  well  again  until  I  put  my  foot  on  solid 
earth." 

Beatrix  gave  a  rather  excited  laugh.  "  Then  you 
will  be  well  again  this  afternoon,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Keene  turned  eagerly.  "  You  don't  mean  that 
we  are  going  to  land,  that  this  dreadful  cruise  is  com- 
ing to  an  end  this  afternoon!"' 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do." 

"  But,  Mr.  Franklin  ?     Has  he ?  " 

"  Mr.  Franklin  doesn't  count  in  the  scheme  of 
things,"  said  Beatrix  coolly,  "  I've  made  up  my  mind 
to  get  off  the  Galatea  and  there  it  is." 

Mrs.  Keene's  first  flush  of  pleasure  and  relief  faded 
before  her  next  thought.  "  But  your  Aunt  Honoria 
and  Mrs.  Vanderdyke, —  what  will  they  say?" 

"  Everything  that  human  beings  can  find  to  say 
and  then  some,  my  dear,  but  I  don't  think  I  shall  go 
home  at  once,"  said  Beatrix  airily.  "  This  seems  to 
be  a  good  opportunity  of  seeing  a  little  of  our  United 
States, —  of  which  I  only  really  know  Fifth  Avenue. 
I  think  I  shall  get  a  good  touring  car,  take  Ida 
Larpent  and  we  three  will  go  for  a  joy-ride. 
That  will  give  me  time  to  think  out  a  plan  of  action. 
It  goes  without  saying  that  I  shall  have  now  to  blow 
the  gaff  before  Franklin  does.  There  will  be  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  satisfaction  in  getting  in  first  After 
that, —  well,  my  dear  little  long  suffering  Brownie, 
Aunt  Honoria  will  lead  the  family  against  me  and 


216  SCANDAL 

unless  I  can  get  a  really  splendid  brainwave  you  and 
I  will  go  into  exile  to  gloat,  like  Napoleon,  on  our  bril- 
liant misdeeds, —  martyrs  on  the  altar  of  adventure. 
And  I  don't  mind  telling  you  in  strict  confidence  that 
all  my  courage  oozes  away  at  the  bare  idea.  I've  been 
an  awful  little  fool,  Brownie,  there's  no  getting  over 
it." 

To  her  great  surprise,  Mrs.  Keene  felt  a  curious 
glow  of  reckless  triumph  in  being  included  in  Beatrix's 
wild  scheme.  Even  she,  almost  the  last  living  repre- 
sentative of  the  mid- Victorian  era,  had  become  used 
to  this  sham  marriage.  Modernism  is  strangely  in- 
fectious. All  the  same  an  overwhelming  curiosity  sent 
personal  comfort  into  the  cold  and  summoning  up  all 
her  courage  she  put  a  question  that  had  begun  to  burn 
her  like  a  mustard  plaster.  ".What  has  happened?" 
she  asked.  "  Have  you  had  further  trouble  with  Mr. 
Franklin?  Has  he  tried " 

Beatrix  lifted  a  cover  from  a  dish.  "  Try  some  of 
these  delightful  looking  scrambled  eggs,  Brownie  dear. 
I've  heard  they're  very  good  for  neuralgia." 

A  little  flush  suddenly  swept  over  the  elder  woman's 
face.  She  had  taken  advantage  of  the  princess's  con- 
descension and  received  as  usual  a  well-deserved  snub. 
Greatly  to  her  relief  —  she  had  an  inherent  dislike  of 
apologizing  —  Ida  Larpent  sailed  in,  looking  like  a 
French  actress  on  a  holiday. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  she  asked,  a  little  too  late.  "  I 
was  anxious  about  you,  dear  child,  and  so  was  Mr. 
Fraser." 

Beatrix  got  up.     She  was  not  amazed   at   Mrs. 


SCANDAL  217 

Keene's  curiosity.  She  sympathized  with  that.  She 
felt  it  incumbent  upon  her,  however,  to  register  dis- 
approval for  the  sake  of  the  future.  "  You're  both 
very  kind,"  she  said.  "  There's  nothing  the  matter. 
Come  to  the  library.  Send  for  Helene  as  soon  as 
you're  ready  to  dress,  Brownie,  won't  you?  Au  re- 
voir."  She  nodded,  took  Mrs.  Larpent's  arm  and 
went  out. 

Poor  little  Mrs.  Lester  Keene.  When  would  she 
remember  that  she  was  in  the  service  of  plutocracy! 

"  How  would  you  like  to  break  the  monotony  of 
cruising  by  coming  on  a  motor  tour?  "  asked  Beatrix. 
The  sun  set  her  hair  on  fire. 

Mrs.  Larpent  shut  the  library  door  quickly.  "  But, 
how  do  you  mean?  Is  Mr.  Franklin  going  to  bring 
the  cruise  to  an  end?  "  She  also  had  decided  upon  a 
plan  of  action, —  and  the  scene  of  it  was  the  yacht. 

"  No,"  said  Beatrix  laughing,  "  but  I  have.  I'm 
going  ashore  this  afternoon  with  Mrs.  Keene  and 
Helene." 

"  Ashore  —  this  afternoon?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  There's  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't 
be  the  only  woman  on  board,  I  suppose.  It's  a  free 
country.  But  if  you'd  care  to  come  with  me,  do.  We 
may  have  some  fun." 

"  Thanks  most  awfully,"  said  Ida,  trying  quickly  to 
make  order  out  of  chaos.  "  Yes,  we  ought  to  have 
great  fun.  I  don't  know  much  of  America."  But 
what  would  Franklin  say?  Would  he  let  her  remain 
alone  on  the  Galatea ?  If  that  could  be  worked  the  rest 
seemed  easy.  But  it  would  mean,  she  knew,  breaking 


2i8  SCANDAL 

with  Beatrix,  who  was,  of  course,  an  asset.  It  was 
the  choice  between  a  good  thing  and  one  that  might 
be  made  of  incalculable  excellence.  Mentally  she 
plumped  for  Franklin,  her  knowledge  of  men  and  her 
confidence  in  herself  and  her  beauty.  "  Have  you 
told  Mr.  Franklin  yet?" 

"  Yes,  vaguely,"  said  Beatrix.  "  But  as  I  haven't 
the  faintest  idea  where  we  can  land  I'm  on  my  way 
to  see  him  now  and  clinch  the  matter.  I  don't  think 
there  will  be  too  much  time  to  pack.  Be  in  the  gym 
in  half  an  hour  and  let's  have  some  exercise."  She 
turned  at  the  door  and  a  smile  lit  up  her  face.  "  It'll 
be  a  tremendous  joke  cutting  about  the  country  with- 
out any  man  to  look  after  us.  Four  lone  women  on 
the  long  trail  ?  Why,  we  shall  ask  for  trouble." 

Her  merry  laugh  remained  in  the  room  and  Ida 
Larpent  added  a  chuckle  to  it.  "  Enjoy  your  joke, 
my  child,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  but  count  me  out.  If 
I  have  to  work  a  miracle  I'll  stay  on  the  yacht  and  in 
good  time,  with  ordinary  luck  and  great  tact,  I  may 
have  something  to  laugh  at  too." 


XXIII 

FRANKLIN  was  in  his  room  talking  to  the  Captain 
about  a  fishing  expedition  when  Beatrix  knocked  at 
the  door. 

"  Come  in  ...  and  if  we  lie  at  anchor  for  a  couple 
of  days  we  can  ship  some  grub  on  the  big  launch  .  .  ." 
He  stopped  on  seeing  Beatrix,  who  stood  framed  in 
the  doorway,  the  most  bewitching  picture  he  ever 
hoped  to  see. 

"Am  I  disturbing  you?  .  .  .  I'll  come  back  pres- 
ently." 

"  Oh,  no,  please !  "  said  Franklin.    "  We've  finished." 

Beatrix  had  no  intention  of  leaving  whether  she  dis- 
turbed or  not.  "  Good  morning,  Captain,"  she  said. 
"  What  a  wonderful  day !  " 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Franklin.  It's  good  to  be 
alive  in  such  weather,  isn't  it?  .  .  .  Very  good,  sir. 
I'll  see  about  the  fishing  trip  at  once."  He  picked  up 
his  cap,  dropped  the  ash  of  his  cigar  into  a  silver  tray, 
bowed  to  Beatrix  and  took  himself  off,  wondering  for 
the  hundredth  time  what  sort  of  marriage  this  was  in 
which  these  two  young  people  treated  each  other  as 
though  they  were  casual  acquaintances. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  Franklin  pushed  an  arm- 
chair forward. 

"  No  wonder  you  like  this  room,"  said  Beatrix. 
"May  I  wander  round  for  a  moment?  How  jolly 


220  SCANDAL 

these  Yale  groups  are,  and  I  see  you  play  polo, —  the 
only  game  that  makes  me  wish  I  were  a  man.  And 
what's  this  uniform?  The  National  Guard?  " 

"  Yes,  I  hold  a  commission." 

"  I  didn't  know  that.  Very  versatile,  aren't  you  ? 
And  that's  a  tarpon,  isn't  it?  What  a  big  fellow. 
Probably  gave  you  some  trouble." 

"  About  four  hours,"  said  Franklin.  Good  Lord, 
what  was  this  extraordinary  girl  made  of !  Yester- 
day she  had  fought  him  like  a  tigress,  to-day  she  was 
as  sunny  and  calm  as  the  weather. 

She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  table,  pushing  back 
a  box  of  cigars  and  half  a  dozen  well-smoked  pipes. 
"  I've  come  to  have  a  little  friendly  talk,"  she  said,  "  if 
you  can  give  me  ten  minutes." 

"  I'm  absolutely  at  your  service." 

"  Thanks.  Don't  stand  there.  It  makes  me  feel 
formal.  And  please  go  on  smoking."  She  gave  him 
one  of  those  smiles  that  made  obedience  a  delight. 
"  That's  better.  I  want  to  tell  you  that,  except  for 
one  incident,  I  shall  look  back  on  these  days  on  the 
Galatea  with  real  pleasure.  You're  sorry  that  you 
committed  assault  and  battery,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Very  sorry,"  said  Franklin.  What  else  could  he 
say  with  those  frank  laughing  eyes  upon  him. 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  you  are.  I  was  too,  but  will  agree 
to  forget,  because  otherwise  you've  been  so  nice  and 
kind." 

Franklin  bowed.  He  knew  that  he  was  a  fool,  but 
he  felt  that  she  had  decorated  him  with  an  order. 
What  was  behind  all  this? 


SCANDAL  221 

Beatrix  threw  back  her  golden  head  and  burst  out 
laughing.  "  I'll  tell  you,"  she  said,  reading  his 
thoughts  on  his  face.  He  had  not  troubled  to  become 
socially  expert  in  disguising  his  feelings.  She  got  up, 
ran  one  of  the  bachelor  chairs  near  to  Franklin,  sat 
down  and  bent  forward.  Artificiality,  self-conscious- 
ness and  that  touch  of  the  precocious  that  she  took  an 
impish  pleasure  in  adopting  in  a  crowd,  all  left  her. 
"  Look  here,"  she  said,  "  I'm  going  to  be  very  honest 
with  you,  for  a  change.  Can  you  bear  it  ?  " 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Franklin,  boyishly.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  looking  at  and  sitting  close  to  a  new 
girl, —  the  girl  described  to  him  by  Malcolm  in  that 
emotional  outburst  of  his. 

"  I'm  awfully,  really  awfully  sorry  I  played  the 
fool  and  let  you  into  all  this,  Pelham.  I  took  a  hor- 
rible advantage  of  you  and  I'm  beastly  ashamed  about 
it." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Franklin,  who  would 
willingly  have  gone  through  it  all  again  to  be  treated 
so  charmingly. 

'  You  say  that  because,  at  this  moment,  you  and  I 
are  friends  and  have  put  our  cards  on  the  table,  but  I 
know  jolly  well  that  I've  given  you  a  very  bad  time 
and  have  got  you  into  a  hateful  mess." 

"  That's  true  enough,"  he  said.  "  But  why  not 
fall  in  with  the  only  possible  plan  to  put  us  both  out 
of  it?" 

11  You  mean  marry  you  ?  " 

:<  Yes."     He  did  his  best  to  hide  his  eagerness. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  put  her  hand  lightly  on 


222  SCANDAL 

his  arm.  "My  dear  man,  I  can't.  It  isn't  fair  to 
you.  I  think  it's,  well,  immense  of  you  to  have 
thought  of  it  but  I  draw  the  line  at  divorce.  If  you 
had  to  go  through  all  that  horrid  business  I'm  per- 
fectly certain  it  would  be  on  my  conscience  all  my 
life." 

Franklin  saw  his  chance  to  put  up  a  bloodless  fight. 
"  But  why  should  there  be  a  divorce?  " 

"I  don't  follow  you,"  said  Beatrix. 

"Let's  be  married  for  the  sake  of  everybody  con- 
cerned and  remain  married." 

Beatrix  looked  at  him  squarely  and  bravely.  "  I'll 
tell  you  why  not,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  "  Deep 
down  somewhere  in  me  there's  a  little  unspoiled  fund 
of  romance  and  sentiment.  I'm  looking  rather  wist- 
fully forward  to  marriage  as  the  turning  point  in  my 
funny  life.  I  want  it  to  be  the  best  thing  that  I  shall 
ever  do.  I  want  it  to  be  for  love." 

"  And  you  don't  think  that  you  could  ever  love 
me  ?  "  asked  Franklin,  trying  to  keep  his  voice  steady. 

"  No,"  she  said,  simply,  "  I  don't.  And  what's 
more,  I'm  not  your  sort  of  girl,  I  know  that  perfectly 
well." 

"  Speak,  you  fool,  speak ! "  cried  Franklin  in- 
wardly. "  Get  off  your  stilts  and  lay  yourself  at  her 
feet  and  give  up  this  crazy  idea  of  breaking  her  splen- 
did spirit  and  blurt  out  that  you  love  her  to  despera- 
tion and  would  gladly  go  to  the  devil  for  her." 

But  the  moment  passed, —  one  of  those  innumer- 
able moments  in  life  which,  if  instantly  seized,  turn 
pain  into  joy,  misunderstandings  into  complete  agree- 


SCANDAL  223 

ment  and  are  capable  of  changing  the  destiny  of  na- 
tions. 

Beatrix  got  up  and  went  back  to  her  place  on  the 
table  among  the  pipes.  "  No,"  she  said,  with  an  in- 
voluntary sigh,  "  I've  still  to  meet  the  right  man  and 
you  the  right  girl.  We  mustn't  smash  our  lives  be- 
cause I've  dragged  you  into  a  perfectly  inconceivable 
muddle, —  and  that's  putting  it  mildly.  No,  I've  got 
to  face  the  music  and  take  my  punishment,  much  as  I 
hate  it." 

Franklin  kept  his  ego  away  from  her.  Her  frank- 
ness, her  childlike  simplicity  beat  him  just  as  badly  as 
her  imperious  moods.  His  pride,  and  the  knowledge 
that  she  would  laugh  at  him  if  he  confessed  himself, 
made  it  impossible  to  speak.  But  she  tempted  him 
almost  beyond  endurance.  He  had  never  loved  her 
so  much  as  he  did  at  that  moment.  "  .Well,"  he  said, 
"  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?  " 

Beatrix  laughed  softly.  "  How  extremely  nice  you 
can  be  when  you  try,"  she  said.  "  When  you  fall  in 
love  I  hope  the  girl  will  be  a  real  corker." 

"  Thanks  very  much,"  said  Franklin. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  do.  Run  in  this 
afternoon  and  put  me  ashore,  will  you?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Thank  you.  I've  thought  it  all  out.  I  shall  get 
a  car, —  two  cars,  one  for  the  baggage, —  and  go  for 
a  short  tour.  While  I'm  on  the  road  with  Mrs.  Keene 
and  probably  Ida  Larpent,  I  shall  write  as  short  a 
letter  as  possible  to  mother, —  whew,  the  mere  thought 
of  it  makes  me  hot  all  over, —  and  give  her  the  truth, 


224  SCANDAL 

the  whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  Then,  one 
fine  day,  I  shall  walk  in  upon  the  family  and  give  my- 
self up  to  justice.  Aunt  Honoria  has  the  very  jolly 
idea  of  taking  me  into  exile  for  a  year  during  which, 
I  suppose,  she  is  optimistic  enough  to  think  that  I  shall 
'  find  '  myself.  What  I  shall  really  do  during  that 
appalling  time  will  be  to  write  the  confessions  of  a 
spoilt  girl  for  the  use  of  millionaire  parents." 

"  It  will  make  good  reading,"  said  Franklin. 

"  I'll  see  that  it  does,"  said  Beatrix  a  little  grimly. 
"  One  chapter,  at  least,  will  have  a  scathing  attack  on 
the  sycophancy  of  the  fashionable  girls'  school."  She 
held  out  her  hand.  "  Thank  you  again,  Pelham 
Franklin,  sportsman,  for  all  you've  done  for  me.  I 
shall  never  forget." 

Franklin  sprang  up  and  faced  her.  He  was  beaten 
then.  He  was  to  fail  in  breaking  in  this  amazing 
girl.  He  was  not  the  man  marked  out  by  fate  to 
find  the  woman  in  Beatrix,  to  be  the  cause  of  her  ab- 
dicating a  sham  throne,  to  give  that  good  woman  Aunt 
Honoria  the  longed-for  opportunity  to  offer  praise  to 
God.  Right.  He  would  take  his  beating. 

He  grasped  her  hand.  "  You're  sure  you  can  be 
ready  to  land  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  Quite." 

"  Very  good.  I'll  make  it  so.  Mrs.  Larpent  will 
go  with  you,  of  course." 

"Just  as  you  like.     And  Malcolm?" 

"  Yes.  I'll  try  being  alone  for  a  change."  He  let 
her  hand  go  and  stood  back,  waiting  for  whatever  she 
might  do  or  say  next. 


SCANDAL  5225 

Beatrix  laughed  again.  She  rather  liked  the  queer 
boyishness  of  this  man,  the  awkwardness,  the  inarticu- 
lation;  and  it  flashed  across  her  mind  as  she  looked 
at  him,  strong  and  clean-cut  and  sun-tanned,  that  there 
might  perhaps  have  been  a  different  conversation  if  he 
had  not  bent  over  the  end  of  her  bed  and  rapped  out 
the  offensive  words  that  were  rooted  in  her  memory. 

"  Well,  then,  I'm  off  to  the  gym,"  she  said,  "  for 
the  last  time.  How  happy  you'll  be  to  be  rid  of 
women." 

And  out  she  went,  as  graceful  as  a  young  deer. 


XXIV 

FRANKLIN  locked  his  door. 

He  knew  very  well  that  within  ten  minutes  Ida  Lar- 
pent  would  be  upon  him  and  that  inevitably,  being 
told  by  Beatrix  of  the  latest  move,  Malcolm  would  be 
down  to  see  what  he  could  do.  He  had  no  wish  to 
see  anyone  at  that  moment,  not  even  his  best  friend. 

He  quietly  loaded  and  lit  a  pipe,  sat  down  in  his 
favorite  arm-chair,  shoved  his  hands  into  his  pockets 
and  his  long  legs  out  and  settled  down  to  think.  He 
hadn't  done  such  a  thing  since  the  night  of  his  father's 
death  when  for  the  second  time  in  his  young  life  grief 
had  seized  him  by  the  throat  and  there  did  not  seem 
to  be  one  speck  of  light  on  his  black  horizon. 

He  went  back  to  the  night  in  New  York,  which  was 
still  within  easy  reach,  when  he  and  Malcolm  had 
caught  sight  of  Beatrix  and  Sutherland  York.  He 
was  then  his  own  master,  heart-whole,  a  complete  in- 
dividualist, in  the  almost  uncanny  position  of  being 
free  from  responsibility,  at  the  beck  and  call  of  no  liv- 
ing creature.  He  was  then  one  of  the  very  few  men 
in  civilization  who  was  able  to  go  through  life  unat- 
tached either  to  a  business  or  a  cause.  He  was  able 
to  buy  almost  everything  that  caught  his  fancy.  The 
one  thing  that  all  the  money  in  the  world  cannot  pur- 
chase he  was  lucky  enough  to  possess.  He  had  health. 
He  was  sound  in  wind  and  limb. 

He  followed  himself  into  his  antler-hung  studio  and 


SCANDAL  227 

stood  again  looking  round  its  crowded  walls,  suddenly 
and  for  the  first  time  impatient  of  his  games,  realiz- 
ing that  his  toys  were  empty  and  meaningless.  Mal- 
colm's surprising  outburst  about  Beatrix  rang  again 
in  his  ears.  He  remembered  that  it  had  drawn  from 
him  a  sort  of  prayer.  "  My  God,"  he  had  said,  "  I 
wonder  when  /  shall  begin  to  live ! " 

Then  he  went  over  the  ground  from  New  York  to 
the  Vanderdyke  House  in  the  new  car  which  had  pro- 
vided him  with  a  momentary  thrill.  He  had  gone  re- 
luctantly because  his  interest  in  meeting  Ida  Larpent 
again  was  not  keen.  Their  friendship  had  been  very 
pleasant  and  agreeable  but  it  had  served  its  purpose. 
And  then  he  saw  himself,  the  super-individualist,  as 
sceptical  of  Fate  as  all  young  men  are,  come  down 
into  the  hall  to  be  met  by  Beatrix  with  her  urgent  plea 
for  help. 

Without  hesitation  or  motive,  without  thought  or 
fear  of  consequences  he  had  given  his  help  and  in  an 
instant  had  lost  his  detachment,  his  splendid  isolation, 
and  rendered  himself  liable  to  responsibility,  signed  on 
to  life's  roll-call  as  the  slave  of  a  cause. 

The  amazing  irony  of  it  all  only  came  to  him  in 
its  utter  nakedness  as  he  sat  there,  locked  into  his  own 
room,  summing  up  the  subsequent  rush  of  events.  In 
one  careless  moment  he  had  flung  his  freedom  away 
for  the  girl  in  whom  he  had  never  been  able  to  squeeze 
up  any  sort  of  interest,  the  girl  who  had  been  the  un- 
conscious cause  of  his  discontent  and  self-disgust,  the 
girl  to  whom  he  had  intended  to  give  the  spurs,  who 
had  set  the  torch  of  love  to  his  breast  and  who  was 


228  SCANDAL 

now  to  be  allowed  to  go  free  and  unpunished  merely 
because  she  disarmed  him  with  a  smile. 

He  got  up  and  walked  about. 

It  might  be  that  what  people  call  Fate, —  he  was 
vaguely  inclined  to  believe  that  their  word  for  it  was 
not  the  honest  one, —  had  suddenly,  in  the  multiplicity 
of  its  daily  work,  become  interested  in  his  particular 
case  and  in  that  curious  and  almost  ineradicable  way, 
given  him  a  very  good  reason  for  beginning  to  live, — 
or  was  it  one  of  the  haphazard  incidents  that  come 
into  the  lives  of  human  beings  from  out  of  the  clouds, 
not  in  the  nature  of  tests  or  trials,  but  as  mere  acci- 
dents out  of  which  to  shuffle  in  the  best  possible  man- 
ner? 

He  drew  up  short. 

What  was  going  to  happen  if  he  let  Beatrix 
go?  Her  name  and  his,  her  family  and  his  own, 
would  be  the  centre  of  such  a  scandal  as  the  papers 
had  not  been  able  to  batten  upon  in  his  memory.  That 
mattered.  He  liked  and  respected  the  Vanderdykes. 
He  was  intensely  jealous  of  Beatrix's  good  name.  He 
valued  his  own  and  detested  publicity.  He  didn't 
care  whether  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  her  charac- 
ter for  Beatrix  to  spend  a  year  out  of  the  stir,  excite- 
ment and  flattery  of  society.  He  loved  and  wanted 
her.  He  would  be  half  content  if  he  could  bring  her 
to  the  point  of  common  sense  and  make  her  his  wife 
in  its  mere  empty  meaning.  That  step  achieved  there 
were  others  that  might  lead  to  the  fulfilment  of  his 
incessant  dreams,  if  not  through  love  then  through 
tolerance  and  the  acceptance  of  things. 


SCANDAL  229 

Fate  or  accident,  was  he  going  to  permit  this  wilful, 
nimble-minded,  imperious  girl,  this  child  spoiled  by  a 
system,  to  make  a  fool  of  him  again?  "No,  she 
shan't,"  he  said.  "  I'll  put  up  another  fight  and  break 
her  by  other  methods.  We'll  both  begin  to  live  and 
face  things.  I'll  see  this  through." 

He  threw  out  his  arms  and  took  a  deep  breath,  un-' 
locked  his  door,  went  on  deck,  saw  that  the  chairs 
were  empty  under  the  awning  and  made  for  the  gym- 
nasium. As  quick  as  lightning  he  had  made  his  plans. 

There  was  Ida  Larpent,  introspective  and  calculat- 
ing, in  one  of  her  most  artful  dresses  and  a  soft  wide- 
brimmed  hat,  sitting  on  a  rolled-up  mattress,  with  her 
gleaming  fingers  interlocked.  There  was  Malcolm 
Fraser,  in  white  flannels,  with  rounded  shoulders  and 
head  bent  forward,  riding  a  fixed  bicycle  for  dear  life 
with  his  eyes  on  the  dial  in  front  of  him,  —  and  there, 
in  blue  knickers  and  a  silk  shirt  with  wide  open  collar 
was  Beatrix  perched  straddle  on  the  electric  horse, 
with  her  hands  on  her  hips,  riding  like  a  cavalryman. 
Her  eyes  were  dancing,  her  lips  parted  and  her  face 
alight  with  health. 

"  Hello,  Pel,"  she  cried  out,  "  here  we  are.  Get 
into  whites  and  come  and  show  us  the  way  on  the 
bars." 

A  wave  of  sheer  honest  passion  flooded  Franklin's 
brain.  Assuredly  he  would  fight  and  go  on  fighting 
to  win  this  girl. 

Malcolm  staggered  off  the  bicycle.  "  Never  was  so 
glad  in  my  life  of  an  interruption,"  he  said,  panting. 
"  This  is  not  a  poet's  job." 


HAROLD  A. 


230  SCANDAL 

And  Ida  Larpent  rose  slowly  and  touched  a  button 
on  Franklin's  coat.  "  Come  out  and  talk  to  me,"  she 
said,  under  her  breath. 

Franklin  went  into  the  middle  of  the  gym.  "  I'm 
not  staying,"  he  said.  "  I  just  came  to  say,  Beatrix, 
that  the  launches  will  be  ready  at  three-thirty.  Can 
you  be  packed  by  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  breaking  into  a  gallop.  "  Too 
bad  to  have  to  go,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Go  ?  Go  where  ? "  asked  Malcolm,  staring  at 
Franklin. 

"  Ashore,  old  man.  Beatrix  is  sick  of  the  Galatea 
and  is  taking  her  party  off  the  yacht  this  afternoon." 

"Her  party?"  The  words  came  sharply  from 
Mrs.  Larpent. 

"  Her  party, —  yes,"  said  Franklin,  "  so  sorry," 
and  he  gave  her  a  little  bow  which  permitted  of  no 
argument. 

Malcolm  was  staggered.     "  Meaning  me, —  too  ?  " 

"  Naturally,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Franklin.  "  The 
ladies  must  have  a  man  to  look  after  them.  Don't 
forget,  three-thirty." 

The  first  officer  was  on  the  bridge.  Franklin  made 
for  the  Captain's  state-room.  McLeod,  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  with  a  pipe  between  his  teeth,  was  reading  a 
magazine. 

"  Don't  move,"  said  Franklin.  "  Just  listen.  Make 
a  beeline  at  once  for  the  nearest  place  where  my  wife 
and  her  friends  can  be  put  ashore.  Then  have  the  big 
launch  ready.  Load  it  with  all  the  luggage  except  my; 
wife's.  Have  hers  ready  to  dump  into  the  other 


SCANDAL  231 

launch,  but  don't  lower  it.  Put  Jones  in  charge  and 
get  Mrs.  Larpent,  Mrs.  Keene,  Mr.  Eraser  and  the 
French  maid  into  the  launch.  As  soon  as  she's  well 
away,  the  first  officer  will  take  a  signal  from  me  to 
pass  on  to  you  on  the  bridge.  I'll  raise  my  right  hand 
above  my  head.  He  will  do  the  same.  That  will 
mean  full  steam  ahead  and  out  to  sea.  Jones  will 
land  his  party  and  come  after  us.  Is  all  that  clear?  " 

"  Quite  clear,  sir,  thank  you !  "  said  the  Captain. 

"  Good,"  said  Franklin. 

As  one  man  left  the  state-room  the  other  got  up  and 
put  on  his  coat  and  cap.  There  was  a  smile  of  ap- 
proval on  his  face  as  he  did  so.  "  A  very  pleasant 
idea,"  he  thought,  "  to  run  away  with  one's  wife." 


XXV 

LUNCH  was  a  strange  meal  that  day. 

Mrs.  Larpent  was  angry.  Her  plans  lay  all  about 
her  feet  like  a  pack  of  cards.  If  there  was  one  thing 
she  resented  more  than  any  other  it  was  to  be  coerced. 
The  cruise  might  have  been  so  useful.  In  his  present 
state  of  mind,  as  she  wrongly  judged  it,  she  had  seen 
a  way  to  bind  Franklin  to  herself  more  closely  than  it 
had  appeared  possible  in  her  most  optimistic  moments. 
She  had  been  jarred  by  what  Beatrix  had  said  that 
morning  as  to  going  ashore  but  had  determined  to 
make  a  huge  effort  to  remain  aboard.  Franklin's  at- 
titude in  the  gymnasium,  however,  made  it  quite  plain 
that  he  did  not  want  her.  She  was  to  go  with  the  rest. 
It  was  the  most  bitter  disappointment  of  her  life. 
Her  heart  as  well  as  her  pocket  was  hurt,  and  both 
needed  comfort.  It  required  all  her  courage  to  enable 
her  to  play  up  to  Beatrix's  incessant  light-heartedness 
during  the  meal. 

Mrs.  Lester  Keene  made  very  little  attempt  to  dis- 
guise her  joy  at  her  impending  release.  Her  own  per- 
sonal comfort  came  in  front  of  her  anxiety  as  to  what 
must  happen  to  Beatrix. 

Malcolm  Fraser  was  worried  and  puzzled.  His 
sympathy  was  equally  divided  between  his  friend  and 
the  girl  he  loved.  The  cruise,  which  he  hoped  would 
bring  them  together,  was  a  failure.  Propinquity  and 


SCANDAL  233 

sea  air  had  refused  to  work  for  once.  He  was  in- 
tensely sorry.  He  was  in  the  dark  as  to  what  had 
happened  but  he  knew  that  Franklin  was  hard  hit  be- 
cause he  wanted  to  be  alone.  It  was  a  sure  sign.  He 
refused  to  ask  himself  what  was  going  to  happen. 
There  must  be  trouble  and  scandal  and  heart-burnings 
and  probably  punishment  and  he  regarded  them  all  as 
the  spoilers  of  life. 

He  knew  enough  of  Beatrix  to  be  certain  that  in 
leaving  the  yacht  in  this  abrupt  manner  she  intended 
to  give  herself  up  to  her  people  and  never  see  Franklin 
again  if  she  could  help  it.  What  a  pity! 

Franklin  was  quieter  even  than  usual,  but  there  was 
something  in  his  eyes  that  made  Beatrix  curious.  Her 
quick  observation  missed  nothing.  Just  before  lunch 
came  to  an  end  she  looked  squarely  at  him,  with  a 
straight  face  and  said,  "  You're  going  to  begin  to  en- 
joy yourself  now,  aren't  you?" 

"  By  Jove,  yes,"  he  said,  with  a  ring  of  sincerity  in 
his  voice  which  set  Malcolm  puzzling  again. 

And  then  the  imp  sat  itself  on  Beatrix's  shoulder. 
"  I  wonder  you  ever  bothered  to  get  married,"  she 
said,  with  a  little  laugh. 

All  eyes  turned  upon  her.  Her  audacity  was  epoch- 
making. 

"  It  isn't  good  for  man  to  live  alone,"  said  Frank- 
lin quietly. 

"  But  you  agree  with  modern  thinkers  that  married 
people  need  a  holiday  from  time  to  time,  is  that  it?  " 

"  Something  like  that,"  he  replied,  showing  his 
teeth. 


234  SCANDAL 

Beatrix  looked  round  the  table.  She  saw  the  same 
expression  on  the  faces  of  all  her  party.  "  When 
shall  we  all  meet  again,  do  you  suppose?  " 

"  The  sooner  the  better,"  said  Franklin,  with  that 
touch  of  old-fashioned  courtesy  that  he  must  have  in- 
herited from  his  grandfather.  "  Let's  make  an  en- 
gagement to  dine  together  one  night  at  Sherry's  dur- 
ing Christmas  week.  There  may  be  a  good  deal  to 
talk  about  by  that  time." 

"  I'll  be  there,"  said  Malcolm. 

"  And  I,"  said  Mrs.  Larpent,  who  had  already  be- 
gun to  set  the  machinery  of  her  brain  at  work.  Many 
things  might  be  made  to  happen  before  Christ- 
mas. 

"  I  shall  have  great  pleasure,"  said  Mrs.  Keene. 

"  But,  my  dear  Pelham,"  cried  Beatrix,  with  mock 
amazement,  "  am  I  to  be  a  grass  widow  all  that  time  ?  " 
She  got  up  before  Franklin  could  find  an  answer. 
"  Come  along,  Brownie.  Let's  go  and  see  how  Helene 
is  getting  on  with  the  packing.  Hope  the  stewardess 
is  doing  good  work  for  you,  Mrs.  Larpent.  Your 
lovely  frocks  need  careful  handling,  don't  they?" 

Franklin  waited  until  they  had  gone.  Then  he 
turned  to  Malcolm.  "  Come  on  deck,  old  man. 
You've  got  to  know  something." 

They  went  forward  and  stood  in  the  sun.  The 
line  of  coast  was  much  nearer  than  it  had  been  for 
days.  It  needed  no  glasses  to  see  its  formation  now 
and  the  yellow  line  of  beach  on  which  a  good-tempered 
sea  was  breaking. 

Malcolm  leaned  on  the  rail  side  by  side  with  the 


SCANDAL  235 

man  with  whom  he  had  been  at  school  and  university 
and  on  many  a  long  trip  since.  They  had  been  as 
close  as  brothers,  these  two,  with  no  secrets.  They 
had  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  over  camp  fires  in 
many  places  far  away  from  the  contentious  hell  of 
cities  and  had  talked  on  far  into  the  night  of  life  and 
death  and  the  great  hereafter.  They  knew  each  other 
in  and  out,  realized  each  other's  good  points  and  weak- 
nesses. The  everlasting  loyalty  of  friendship  that 
passes  the  love  of  women  was  theirs. 

"  I  knew  that  you  were  not  going  to  wind  up  this 
cruise,  whatever  has  happened,  without  a  yarn,"  said 
Malcolm. 

"  Not  likely,"  said  Franklin.  "  We  don't  do  those 
things." 

Malcolm  waited  while  Franklin  lit  a  cigar.  Christ- 
mas was, —  he  jotted  the  months  off  on  his  fingers. 
There  were  six.  A  good  place  Sherry's.  It  ought 
to  be  a  merry  party.  Beatrix  would  see  to  that, —  if 
she  were  not  with  Aunt  Honoria  in  exile. 

"I  kissed  Beatrix  last  night,"  said  Franklin 
abruptly.  "  I  had  to.  She  was  in  my  blood.  .  .  . 
You  know  her.  She  blazed.  There  was  a  quick  spat 
out  here  after  dinner.  She  ordered  to  be  put  ashore, 
called  me  some  extremely  well-deserved  names  and 
played  bridge  as  if  she  were  at  peace  with  the  world. 
Old  man,  she's  everything  you  said  she  was  and  a 
whole  heap  more.  I  wish  to  God  I'd  never  met  her, — 
and  thank  God  I  have.  .  .  .  This  morning  she  came 
to  my  room.  I  had  no  intention,  by  that  time,  of 
obeying  her  orders  as  if  I  were  a  chauffeur.  I  was 


236  SCANDAL 

too  damned  angry.  But  she  translated  herself  back 
into  the  simple  kid  that  she  was  when  you  put  her 
skates  on  and  sat  at  her  feet.  She  made  pulp  of  me. 
I  agreed  to  everything  she  asked.  She  was  nearer 
liking  me  than  I  ever  hoped  she  would  be, —  I  suppose 
because  she  got  her  way  so  easily.  It's  a  habit. 
When  she'd  gone  I  did  some  thinking.  I  don't  know 
what  will  come  of  it, —  probably  nothing,  because  men 
don't  hit  women  as  they  sometimes  deserve.  But  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  have  another  hard  try  to  win  her, 
to  fight  like  the  very  devil  to  keep  her  and  break  her 
in.  She  got  me  into  all  this  by  a  trick.  Very  good. 
I'm  going  to  take  a  leaf  out  of  her  book.  Two  can 
play  that  game.  You're  going  ashore  with  Mrs.  Lar- 
pent,  Mrs.  Keene  and  the  maid.  I  do  myself  the 
honor  to  escort  my  so-called  wife  as  soon  as  the  other 
launch  is  ready.  It  never  will  be  ready.  Do  you  get 
me?  The  Galatea  puts  out  again  with  the  honey- 
moon couple  —  alone." 

Malcolm  took  a  long  breath.  "  Ah ! "  he  said. 
"  Now  you're  talking." 

"  Yes,"  said  Franklin,  bringing  his  hand  down  hard 
on  the  rail,  "  and  now  I  begin  to  fight.  You  have  a 
cat's  eyes  and  see  in  the  dark.  You  hear  things  that 
other  people  don't  catch.  When  I  tell  you,  standing 
here  in  broad  daylight,  that  I  believe  I'm  marked  out 
to  make  this  girl  find  herself,  that  it's  for  me  and  no 
other  man  to  bring  her  out  of  her  casing  of  stucco, 
you'll  know  that  I'm  not  talking  highfalutin;  you'll 
understand.  In  other  words, —  I'm  not  much  of  a 
hand  in  using  'em, —  I  don't  think  all  this  is  just  an 


SCANDAL  237 

accident.  I'm  going  to  try  and  carry  out  my  job. 
D'you  see  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  said  Malcolm.  "  That's  why  I  argued 
with  her  to  come  on  the  Galatea.  Good  luck,  Pel, 
and  when  we  meet  at  Sherry's  in  Christmas  week  — 
don't  forget  to  let  us  all  know  the  day  —  I  hope  to 
drink  to  Mrs.  Franklin."  He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  hope  to  God  you  may,"  said  Franklin,  taking  it. 

"  I  hope  so  too  if  you  wish  it  as  much  as  all  that." 

They  both  turned.  Beatrix  had  just  come  up, 
dressed  for  the  land. 

"  Don't  /  shake  hands  with  anybody  ?  "  she  added 
whimsically. 

"  With  me,"  said  Franklin. 

"  And  me,"  said  Malcolm. 

And  she  gave  them  a  hand  each  and  divided  one  of 
her  best  smiles  between  them. 


XXVI 

AT  half-past  three  Captain  McLeod  stopped  the  en- 
gines of  the  Galatea  and  the  big  launch  was  lowered. 
Under  the  supervision  of  Mr.  Jones  the  baggage  be- 
longing to  Mrs.  Larpent,  Mrs.  Lester  Keene,  Malcolm 
Eraser  and  the  French  maid  was  loaded  into  her,  leav- 
ing plenty  of  room  for  the  passengers. 

Beatrix  came  on  deck  to  find  everyone  ready. 
Franklin  met  her.  He  looked  as  imperturbable  as 
usual  but  his  heart  was  going  nine  to  the  dozen. 
"  You're  not  going  with  the  others,  if  you  don't 
mind,"  he  said.  "  Your  things  shall  be  put  into  the 
smaller  launch.  I  want  to  take  you  ashore  myself." 

"  Highly  honored,"  said  Beatrix  gaily.  "  Will  all 
my  baggage  get  into  the  other  launch  ?  " 

"  Easily,"  said  Franklin. 

"  What  a  lot  there  is  of  it, —  enough  for  a  regular 
honeymoon ! " 

"  Yes.  I  was  thinking  so.  ...  Excuse  me  while 
I  say  good-bye  to  the  ladies."  He  went  over  to  Mrs. 
Larpent,  giving  a  quick  glance  to  see  that  the  first  offi- 
cer was  on  the  watch. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Mrs.  Larpent,  softly.  "  I  hate 
leaving  the  Galatea  —  and  you." 

"  Thanks.     I'm  awfully  sorry  too." 

"  I  shall  probably  go  and  stay  with  friends  at 
Southampton  but  a  letter  sent  to  my  apartment  will 


SCANDAL  '239 

be  forwarded  if  at  any  time  you  make  up  another 
party  and  need  a  fourth  for  bridge." 

"  Oh,  that's  splendid !     Good-bye  then." 

She  held  his  hand,  gave  him  a  look  that  was  in- 
tended to  convey  everything  that  she  would  have  said 
if  they  had  been  alone, —  and  did, —  and  then  went 
down,  was  handed  into  the  launch  by  Mr.  Jones  in  his 
best  manner  and  took  her  place. 

Beatrix  leaned  on  the  rail.  "  I  wish  I  had  a  ko- 
dak," she  called  out.  "  You  look  like  Lady  Jane 
Grey." 

Mrs.  Larpent  smiled  up  at  her.  "  I  feel  like  the 
devil,  my  dear,"  she  said  to  herself. 

Then  Franklin  gave  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Keene. 
"  Good-bye,"  he  said.  "  I'm  sorry  you  haven't  had 
a  good  time." 

"  I  can't  honestly  say  that  I  have,  but  you've  been 
extremely  kind,  Mr.  Franklin.  Thank  you." 

And  once  more  Jones  proved  his  right  to  be  called 
a  lady's  man. 

"  You  look  more  hopeful  already,  Brownie," 
laughed  Beatrix. 

"  Well,  so  long,  Malcolm." 

"  So  long,  Pel." 

"  You  know  where  to  find  me." 

"  Right." 

Malcolm  sat  next  to  Mrs.  Keene  to  give  her  his 
moral  support,  and  waved  his  hand  to  Beatrix. 
"  You'll  find  us  on  the  quay,"  he  said. 

"All  right,  Malcolm.  Don't  wander  off  till  I 
come," 


24o  SCANDAL 

"  Let  her  go,"  sang  out  Mr.  Jones  and  away  they 
went 

And  then  Beatrix  turned  to  Franklin.  "  Thanks, 
once  more,"  she  said. 

Franklin's  heart  was  up  in  his  throat.  "  I  can 
bring  them  back  with  a  shout." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  A  woman  may  always  alter  her  mind." 

"  I'm  not  a  woman  yet." 

"  No,  that's  true." 

She  laughed.  His  set  face  was  as  amusing  as  his 
naive  remark.  "  Well,  it  was  very  jolly.  I've  got 
quite  fond  of  the  Galatea.  I  shall  miss  the  sun  com- 
ing through  the  portholes  in  the  morning  and  all  my 
exercise  in  the  gym." 

Franklin  raised  his  hand  high  above  his  head.  The 
first  officer  did  the  same. 

"  I  ought  to  know  where  to  find  you  with  a  letter," 
said  Beatrix.  "  Probably  mother  may  want  a  state- 
ment from  you  as  soon  as  I  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag. 
Whew !  Won't  there  be  a  row !  " 

She  began  to  wonder  why  Franklin  didn't  answer. 
She  saw  that  he  was  standing  with  his  chin  up  and 
his  shoulders  squared  and  an  amazing  look  in  his  eyes. 
Was  it  laughter,  anger  ?  "  Why,"  she  said,  "  we're 
moving!  Or  is  it  my  imagination?  " 

"  No,  on  we  go  again,"  said  Franklin. 

"  But  —  what  do  you  mean  ?  On  where  ?  The 
other  launch  isn't  lowered  yet,  and  my  things " 

"  Our  honeymoon  begins  to-day,"  said  Franklin. 

For  one  instant  Beatrix  was  unable  to  understand. 


SCANDAL  241 

She  saw  her  luggage  unmoved,  the  launch  away  out  of 
hail,  the  coast  receding,  she  heard  the  strong  beat  of 
the  engines,  looked  round  at  the  first  officer  near  the 
bridge,  the  sailors  standing  about,  and  Franklin  ready 
to  spring  at  her  if  she  made  a  wild  attempt  to  leap 
overboard.  She  smothered  a  cry  of  rage,  stood  for 
a  moment  in  front  of  Franklin  with  blazing  eyes  and 
distended  nostrils,  and  then  going  off  at  one  of  her 
sudden  tangents, —  beckoned  to  the  first  officer.  She 
would  show  these  men  that  she  was  game. 

"  As  you  see,  I've  changed  my  mind  about  going 
ashore.  Will  you  please  have  my  things  taken  back 
and  tell  the  stewardess  to  unpack  them.  Thanks,  so 
much." 

The  first  officer  saluted  and  gave  orders.  Several 
men  moved  smartly  to  carry  them  out.  From  the 
bridge  the  Captain  watched  the  launch  slide  against 
the  quay,  and  grinned  as  he  imagined  the  utter  amaze- 
ment of  her  passengers  at  the  sight  of  his  vessel  with 
her  dignified  nose  turned  seaward.  A  smart  breeze, 
lively  water,  unclouded  sun,  a  clear  horizon, —  what 
a  picture  the  Galatea  must  make  from  the  shore,  he 
thought. 

"  A  contemptible  trick,"  said  Beatrix,  looking  at 
Franklin  as  though  he  were  a  leper.  Other  things 
came  to  her  lips,  savage,  unrestrained,  white-hot 
things, —  not  another  living  creature  would  have  dared 
to  treat  her  like  this,  not  one, —  but  the  first  officer  was 
in  ear-shot  as  well  as  some  of  the  crew.  Blood  and 
breeding  told  and  so  with  one  of  her  most  gracious 
smiles  she  turned  and  swung  away,  singing  a  little 


242  SCANDAL 

song.  Without  a  maid,  without  a  companion,  with- 
out a  friend,  she  was  a  prisoner  on  this  yacht-world, 
at  the  mercy  of  the  man  who  had  given  her  vanity  an 
unhealing  wound.  Her  one  hope,  her  one  most  eager 
hope,  was  that  she  would  reach  the  drawing-room  be- 
fore her  tears  could  be  seen. 

Franklin  watched  her  go.  To  his  tremendous  love 
was  added  pride  and  admiration.  She  had  called  him 
a  sportsman,  but  what  could  he  call  her? 

"  A  contemptible  trick, —  yes,"  he  thought.  "  But 
this  is  my  job.  Fate  has  marked  me  out  to  make  a 
splendid  woman  of  this  spoiled  girl,  and  I'll  do  it." 


XXVII 

MR.  JONES,  with  half  a  smile  playing  round  his 
elastic  mouth,  and  an  irresistible  twinkle  in  his  small, 
blue,  nimble  eyes,  quickly  overhauled  the  Galatea,  saw 
the  launch  properly  hoisted  and  reported  to  the  first 
officer. 

"  Well,  that  was  a  little  bit  of  orl-right,"  he  said, 
rubbing  his  handkerchief  round  the  wet  leather-lining 
of  his  cap.  "  Neat,  very  neat." 

"  Did  they  say  anything  when  they  twigged  the 
idea?" 

The  whole  of  Mr.  Jones'  cockney  face  puckered 
into  a  grin.  "  Yes,  I  don't  think,"  he  said.  "  The 
old  hen  cackled  as  if  she  had  lost  her  pet  chicken.  A 
good  little  soul.  I  believe  she'd  'ave  took  a  flyin'  leap 
back  into  the  launch  if  Mr.  Fraser  'adn't  'eld  her." 

"  What  about  Mrs.  Larpent?  " 

"  Ma  boy,  the  siren's  langwidge  under  her  breath 
would  'ave  lit  a  pile  of  shavings.  Oh,  she's  'ot  stuff, 
that  Larpy,  and  no  mistake.  Personally,  I'm  bally 
sorry  she's  off.  It  was  better  than  readin'  a  novel  to 
watch  'er  sittin'  about  with  a  social  smile  on  one  side 
of  her  face  and  a  Board  meetin'  on  the  other.  The 
way  she  was  layin'  bird  lime  for  the  Boss!  Clever? 
Nor  'arf, —  and,  moreover,  what  a  nice  leg  for  a 
stockin',  eh?" 

The  first  officer  nodded  sympathetically.  "  Yes," 
he  said,  "  you're  right.  What  about  M.  F.  ?  " 


244  SCANDAL 

Mr.  Jones  mopped  his  forehead  and  ran  his  hand- 
kerchief round  the  inside  of  his  collar.  The  after- 
noon was  warm.  "  I  only  'ad  time  to  chuck  one 
glance  at  Peter  Pan,"  he  said,  giving  Malcolm  the 
nick-name  by  which  he  was  known  on  board,  "  some- 
thin'  in  his  eyes  puzzled  me.  I  dunno,  but  he  'ad  the 
look  of  a  little  feller  who'd  'ad  his  finger  caught  in  a 
door  and  didn't  mean  to  say  anything  about  it.  Well, 
it  broke  the  bloomin'  monotony,  anyway,  and  the  boss 
'as  my  warmest  Congrats.  How  did  Goldie  take  it?  " 

The  first  officer  rather  resented  this  precocious  but 
good-hearted  person's  love  of  nicknames.  "  Mrs. 
Franklin  changed  her  mind,"  he  said,  with  some  stiff- 
ness, "  and  went  along  to  the  drawing-room  singing." 

"  Um,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  with  a  disbelieving  sniff. 
"  Nevertheless,  she  can  'ave  me.  I'd  break  my  neck 
and  die  'appy  for  one  of  them  heart-twistin'  smiles  of 
hers.  All  the  same  I  shall  miss  Frenchy,  we  were 
gettin'  on  fine.  Well,  such  is  life." 

The  two  men  separated,  the  first  officer  to  relieve 
the  Captain,  Horatio  Jones  to  go  below  for  a  cup  of 
tea.  Both  intended  to  discuss  the  ins  and  outs  of  the 
affair  in  full  detail  later  on.  The  whole  ship's  com- 
pany was  intrigued  as  to  the  odd  way  in  which  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Franklin  "  went  on."  It  was  almost  the  one 
topic  of  conversation.  For  constant  gossip  a  yacht 
easily  rivals  a  suburb,  an  army  post  or  a  convent. 

Franklin  had  carried  a  deck  chair  into  the  sun  for- 
ward a  little  while  after  Beatrix  had  gone  to  the 
drawing-room,  and  he  remained  there  reading  Nicolls 
on  "  Big  Game  in  Bechuanaland  "  for  an  hour.  He 


SCANDAL  245 

concentrated  grimly  on  that  delightful  Irishman's  ac- 
count of  his  hunting  expeditions,  but  not  one  word  of 
several  chapters  reached  his  brain.  Beatrix,  Beatrix, 
Beatrix, —  all  the  words  became  her  name,  on  every 
page  he  could  see  nothing  but  her  face  and  her  slim, 
graceful,  alluring  figure.  Questions  as  to  what  he 
was  to  do,  to  say,  to  think,  rose  out  of  the  pages. 
Finally  he  shut  up  the  book  and,  with  an  empty  pipe 
between  his  teeth,  sat  gazing  at  the  line  of  horizon 
which  rose  and  fell,  and  built  up  a  dream  in  which  he 
and  she  went  hand  in  hand  as  far  as  he  could  see.  He 
was  startled  and  brought  back  to  the  difficult  task  to 
which,  like  a  sort  of  crusader,  he  had  bound  himself, 
by  the  voice  of  the  deck  steward.  "  Mrs.  Franklin 
would  like  you  to  come  to  tea,  sir."  Mrs.  Franklin! 
By  Jove,  he  would  sacrifice  everything  he  had  in  the 
world  if  only  those  words  were  true.  He  got  up, 
curious  and  eager,  and  went  back  amidships  on  the 
starboard  side.  In  front  of  a  wicker  table  Beatrix 
was  pouring  out  tea  while  she  talked  to  Captain 
McLeod.  She  had  changed  back  into  appropriate 
clothes  and  looked  the  last  word  in  smartness  in  a 
black  straw  hat  with  a  black  and  white  ribbon,  a  suit 
of  white  flannel  and  white  shoes  with  black  toe  caps. 
The  reason  that  there  was  no  sign  of  redness  round 
her  eyes  or  of  swollen  lids  was  because  she  had  refused 
to  give  Franklin  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  these  things 
by  shedding  tears.  No  one  would  ever  know  the 
strenuous  fight  that  she  had  put  up,  alone  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, to  achieve  this  end. 

It  gave  Franklin  a  thrill  of  pleasure  to  see  her  sit- 


246  SCANDAL 

ting  there,  so  perfectly  at  home,  so  completely  mistress 
of  herself  and  the  situation,  and  the  smile  of  welcome 
that  she  gave  him  made  him  wonder  whether  he  was 
not  back  in  his  dream. 

"  Captain  McLeod  has  condescended  to  patronize 
the  tea  table  for  once,  Pelham." 

McLeod  got  up  and  placed  a  chair  for  Franklin. 
"  Hardly  that,"  he  said,  with  her  note  of  invitation 
in  his  pocket. 

"  Good  for  you,  McLeod,"  said  Franklin,  tacitly 
agreeing  with  Beatrix  that,  under  the  circumstances, 
the  presence  of  a  third  person  made  things  easier. 

"Lemon  and  one  lump,  isn't  it?"  She  made  it 
so. 

Franklin  was  not  surprised  that  she  knew.  He  had 
proved  the  keenness  of  her  observation. 

"  Captain  McLeod,  these  are  cheese  sandwiches, — 
very  nice." 

"  Thank  you."  The  skipper  was  not  much  more  a 
lady's  man  than  his  owner,  although  he  had  stumbled 
twice  into  matrimony,  and  he  felt  preposterously  at  a 
loss  for  small  talk;  but  if,  now  that  the  guests  had 
gone,  the  monotony  of  feeding  in  the  mess  was  to  be 
broken  so  pleasantly  sometimes,  he  was  glad.  He  had 
confided  to  the  first  officer  days  before  that  Mrs.  Frank- 
lin was  "  the  best-looking  thing  in  girls  that  he  ever 
wanted  to  see." 

In  the  middle  of  her  acting  to  play  hostess  to  the 
two  men  who  had  obviously  planned  the  trick  that 
kept  her  on  board  and  whom  she  hated  for  it,  an  un- 
comfortable glimpse  of  self -analysis  told  her  that  she 


SCANDAL  247 

was  rather  enjoying  the  excitement  and  the  stimula- 
tion of  her  effort  and  that  her  love  of  adventure  and 
new  experiences  was  being  fully  gratified.  "  You 
weird  person,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  what  are  you 
made  of?  "  And  even  then  her  brain  began  to  work 
on  the  germ  of  an  idea  that  might  lead  to  her  escape. 
Jones  might  be  bribed.  Her  blood  began  to  dance  at 
the  thought  of  it.  What  joy  to  do  the  double  on 
Franklin !  "  I  don't  mean  to  be  unkind,"  she  said, 
"  and  of  course  there  can't  be  any  more  bridge  unless 
Captain  McLeod  can  be  induced  to  play  a  three- 
some— " 

"  Indeed,  yes,  gladly." 

"  But  it  is  a  relief  to  be  without  Mrs.  Keene,  by 
way  of  a  change,  and  the  others.  You  must  have  the 
gift  of  second  sight,  Pelham." 

Franklin  said  nothing,  but  he  caught  her  eye  and 
bowed  to  show  her  more  eloquently  than  he  knew  how 
to  express  it  in  front  of  the  Captain  that  he  admired 
her  pluck. 

Beatrix  caught  his  meaning.  There  were  one  or 
two  good  points  about  this  man.  But  she  sailed  on 
and  talked  and  laughed  and  said  several  charming 
things  to  the  Captain  that  went  well  home.  If  Jones 
proved  loyal  or  cowardly  perhaps  McLeod  might  be 
flattered  into  helping  her  to  triumph  over  Franklin. 
It  was  as  well  to  make  friends,  at  any  rate. 

But  all  the  while  the  coast  line  was  growing  more 
and  more  faint  and  the  water  between  herself  and  the 
protection  of  the  two  women  wider  and  wider.  Well, 
her  desire  to  see  life  had  led  her  to  this  almost  incon- 


248  SCANDAL 

ceivable  position,  and  she  was  certainly  continuing  to 
see  it.  There  was  some  satisfaction  in  that. 

It  was  only  when  the  Captain  had  gone,  and  the 
deck  steward  had  taken  away  the  table,  that  silence 
fell.  For  a  little  while  those  two  young  people  who 
had  come  together  by  accident  remained  sitting  self- 
consciously, wondering  what  to  say.  Franklin  hoped 
that  Beatrix  would  re-open  the  question  of  his  trick 
so  that  he  could  renew  the  old  argument  as  to  the  all- 
round  wisdom  of  marriage.  It  was  the  one  burning 
subject  of  his  thoughts.  Beatrix  sensed  this  and  so 
determined  to  talk,  if  anything  at  all  were  said,  of  a 
hundred  other  things.  She  had  no  patience  with  his 
eagerness  to  escape  from  scandal  at  such  a  price.  The 
silence  remained,  broken  only  by  the  unceasing  throb 
of  the  engines,  the  swish  of  the  sea  and  the  song  of 
the  breeze,  until  finally  Beatrix  broke  it.  "  Come  over 
to  the  rail,"  she  said,  "and  let's  watch  the  sun  go 
down." 

Franklin  followed  her,  everything  in  him  blazing 
with  love  and  the  ache  to  touch. 

All  the  west  was  draped  with  red,  and  the  sun,  con- 
scious of  having  given  great  joy  to  the  fading  day, 
sank  with  the  indescribable  dignity  of  a  beneficent 
monarch  to  his  rest.  Sky  and  water  paid  homage  as 
he  went  and  the  very  breeze  seemed  to  hold  its  breath 
to  watch  the  passing. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful  ?  "  whispered  Beatrix,  touched 
with  the  beauty  and  magic  of  it. 

"Yes,"  said  Franklin. 

"  I  often  wonder  how  there  can  be  skeptics  in  the 


SCANDAL  249 

world  with  such  a  proof  as  this  of  the  great  Father. 
Don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  again. 

'  The  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  spring,  summer,  the 
fall, —  everything  so  regular,  so  honest,  so  gentle,  so 
awful,  so  human  and  spiritual  and  divine.  Why  look 
at  anything  but  nature  for  a  revelation  of  God?  " 

Franklin  forgot  the  sunset  and  looked  at  this  girl 
of  many  sides  and  moods.  She  had  surprised  him  so 
often  that  he  half -expected  to  discover  in  her  expres- 
sion the  self-consciousness  of  a  pose.  Instead  he  saw 
the  wistful,  humble  look  on  her  lovely  face  that  he 
had  seen  on  the  faces  of  French  peasant  women  who, 
standing  in  the  fields  in  which  they  worked  so  hard 
for  a  bare  living,  bowed  their  heads  at  the  sound  of 
the  Angelus,  and  once  again  he  was  back  in  his  dream 
with  her  hand  in  his,  standing  on  the  threshold  of  a 
home,  listening  with  infinite  joy  to  the  laughter  of  little 
children. 

It  was  not  until  the  sun  had  gone  and  the  last  red- 
ness in  the  sky  had  faded  that  he  heard  her  sigh,  and 
saw  her  shiver  a  little  and  turn  away. 


XXVIII 

THEY  met  again  at  dinner. 

The  chief  steward,  after  giving  the  matter  very  con- 
siderable thought,  had  taken  several  leaves  out  of  the 
table,  thus  making  the  happy  pair  "  more  cosy-like  " 
as  he  put  it.  Beatrix  and  Franklin  were  equally  glad 
to  find  that  they  were  not  going  to  sit  in  solemn  state 
at  the  opposite  ends  of  a  long  and  narrow  board.  It 
would  have  added  difficulty  to  a  position  already  diffi- 
cult enough. 

Franklin  had  waited  outside  the  dining  saloon  until 
Beatrix  put  in  an  appearance.  The  orchestra,  with 
quite  unconscious  irony,  was  playing  the  Entrance  of 
the  Gods  into  Valhalla  from  Das  Rheingold,  The 
stewards  were  in  their  places.  With  an  irresistible 
touch  of  mischief  and  her  senses  alive  to  the  grim 
humor  of  it  all,  Beatrix  laid  her  hand  on  Franklin's 
arm  and  went  into  dinner  as  though  the  saloon  were 
a  stage,  and  the  curtain  had  risen  on  a  crowded  audi- 
torium. She  deliberately  switched  her  mind  into  a 
belief  that  she  was  playing  the  part  of  a  girl  who  had 
been  forced  by  her  family  into  a  marriage  of  con- 
venience with  a  man  whom  she  hardly  knew  and  that 
the  scene  in  which  she  was  to  take  part  was  comedy, 
one  with  an  underlying  note  of  tragedy  in  it.  She 
told  herself  that  she  was  required  to  portray  a  girl 


SCANDAL  251 

of  high  courage  and  spirit  who  was  to  convey  the 
impression  of  being  perfectly  at  ease  although  her 
heart  was  full  of  fright.  She  did  this  in  order  to 
string  herself  up  to  go  through  an  ordeal  with  pluck 
and  to  prevent  Franklin  from  having  the  satisfaction 
of  imagining  that  he  was  forcing  her  to  do  something 
that  went  against  the  grain.  Not  for  one  instant  did 
she  intend  to  let  Franklin  see  how  intensely  she  re- 
sented being  compelled  to  remain  on  the  yacht  or  per- 
mit him  to  feel  that  he  was  winning.  As  to  that  she 
had  absolutely  made  up  her  mind. 

Franklin  was  glad  beyond  words  to  fall  in  with  her 
mood, —  as  he  took  it  to  be.  Not  being  psycholog- 
ically inclined  he  was  unable  to  deduce  the  meaning 
of  it.  He  simply  told  himself  that  she  was  fearless 
and  daring  and  added  these  things  to  the  credit  list 
of  her  splendid  points  which  was  growing  larger  and 
larger.  He  led  her  to  the  table,  placed  her  chair,  sat 
opposite  and  looked  at  her  over  an  arrangement  of 
roses.  She  was  in  a  white  dress  with  a  string  of 
pearls  round  her  neck, —  a  dress  so  simple  and  clean 
in  its  lines  as  to  prove  the  hand  of  a  master  in  its 
making.  She  sat  with  a  straight  back,  her  chin  up, 
her  golden  hair  shimmering.  She  reminded  Franklin 
of  a  daffodil. 

He  utterly  failed  to  find  any  answers  to  his  ques- 
tions as  to  what  he  was  to  do  with  her  now  that  he 
had  her  alone,  how  he  was  to  proceed  to  bring  about 
the  end  that  obsessed  him,  or  in  what  way  he  could 
persuade  or  coerce  her  out  of  her  supreme  and  all-con- 
trolling individualism.  He  was  not  one  of  those 


252  SCANDAL 

curious  men  who,  like  Micawber,  the  master  of  the 
silly  art  of  self-deception,  drug  themselves  into  a  be- 
lief that  all  is  well  for  the  sake  of  wandering  in  a  tem- 
porary paradise  to  which  they  have  paid  no  entrance 
fee  in  the  way  of  work  and  service.  He  was  funda- 
mentally incapable  of  indulging  in  that  form  of  men- 
tal delusion  which  enables  children  to  turn  the  floor 
of  a  nursery  into  a  battlefield  and  slothful  people  with 
the  artistic  temperament  to  wallow  in  the  triumph  of 
a  great  achievement  before  they  have  even  commenced 
to  lay  the  foundations  of  it.  He  had  the  gift  of  see- 
ing straight.  He  could  find  no  point  in  looking  at 
life  through  the  wrong  end  of  a  telescope.  He  was, 
in  a  word,  honest.  While,  therefore,  he  delighted  in 
seeing  Beatrix  playing  the  role  of  his  wife  so  per- 
fectly and  enjoyed  her  almost  affectionate  manner 
and  charming  smiles  he  remained  coldly  truthful  to 
himself  and  the  position  in  which  they  both  stood  and 
realized  that  he  was,  if  anything,  farther  away  than 
ever  from,  the  fulfilment  of  what  he  had  called  his 
"  job." 

All  through  dinner  Beatrix  talked  well  and  quietly 
about  plays  and  books,  as  to  which  Franklin  had  very 
little  to  say.  So  with  uncharacteristic  tact  she 
switched  off  to  shooting  and  fishing  and  all  was  well. 
She  liked  hearing  him  give  forth  on  his  own  sub- 
jects and  was  amused  to  find  how  much  more  he  knew 
of  the  ways  and  habits  of  birds  and  beasts  than  those 
of  women.  She  made  up  her  mind  to  see  what  she 
could  do  with  Mr.  Jones  as  soon  as  possible. 

The  night  was  warm  and  windless.     When  Beatrix 


SCANDAL  253 

rose  from  the  table  she  went  on  deck  and  sat  where 
she  could  listen  to  the  orchestra.  She  asked  the 
leader  to  play  three  pieces  for  her, —  the  strange  mix- 
ture of  which  made  him  smile.  They  were  Brahm's 
"  Minnelied,"  "I  Love  a  Piano,"  and  "Lead, 
Kindly  Light."  Franklin,  believing  that  she  had  had 
enough  of  him  for  the  time  being,  went  off  to  smoke 
a  cigar  with  McLeod.  As  soon  as  the  little  band  fin- 
ished playing  and  went  to  dinner  Beatrix  walked  aft 
to  where,  about  thirty  feet  from  the  stern,  a  heavy  can- 
vas screen  ran  'thwartships  from  one  side  of  the  yacht 
to  the  other,  shutting  off  the  deck  space  allotted  to  the 
crew.  In  this  a  fiddle  and  a  mouth  organ  were  playing 
one  of  those  heavily  sentimental  vaudeville  songs  about 
home  and  mother,  and  several  voices  were  harmoniz- 
ing the  air  rather  well.  The  owner  of  the  falsetto  with 
a  pronounced  tremulo  Beatrix  imagined  to  be  a  very 
tall,  soft-looking,  fat  man  with  a  beard  which  grew  al- 
most up  to  his  eyes.  She  was  right.  He  was  the 
butt  of  the  crew  until  he  opened  his  mouth  to  sing. 
Presently  the  music  changed  to  an  Irish  reel  and  Bea- 
trix saw  Horatio  Jones  with  an  almost  smoked  ciga- 
ratte  in  his  mouth  come  out,  as  though  drawn  by  a 
magnet,  or  the  reed  instrument  of  the  Pied  Piper,  and 
with  droll  solemnity  proceed,  all  alone,  into  an  orgy 
of  toe  and  heel  with  his  back  to  her. 

Seeing  her  chance  Beatrix  slipped  nearer  and  stood 
smiling.  "  Very  nice,"  she  said,  when  the  dancer 
wound  up  with  a  resounding  double  smack. 

Mr.  Jones  was  disconcerted,  not  in  being  caught  in 
his  ecstatic  solo,  which  he  was  quite  ready  to  repeat, 


254  SCANDAL 

but  because  he  had  his  cap  on  the  wrong  way  round 
and  was  wearing  his  second-best  monkey  jacket.  Be- 
ing a  complete  lady's  man  he  was  naturally  a  conceited 
person  and  nothing  put  him  out  so  much  as  to  be  taken 
unprepared.  He  grinned  fatuously  and  put  his  cap  on 
correctly. 

"  It  must  have  taken  a  long  time  to  become  so  pro- 
ficient," she  went  on,  giving  him  a  dazzling  smile. 

"  Oh,  well,  y'see,  mam,  my  mother  was  a  pro-dancer 
in  her  young  days  and  I  caught  it  from  'er,  I  expect." 

"  That's  very  interesting.  Tell  me  about  it,  Mr. 
Jones."  She  began  to  pace  the  deck. 

Jones  fell  in  step,  surreptitiously  mopping  his  neck 
with  his  handkerchief.  This  was  the  moment  of  his 
life.  During  other  cruises  he  had  often  had  pleasant 
chats  with  Franklin  and  his  friends  who  found  him 
and  his  cockney  accent  rather  amusing,  but  he  had 
never  hoped  to  do  more  than  pass  the  time  of  day  with 
this  proud  girl.  He  was  on  his  best  Sunday  behavior. 

"  Me  father  went  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  the  same 
as  all  me  family,"  he  said,  with  what  he  believed  to 
be  a  certain  amount  of  style.  "  At  the  time  he  met 
mother  he  was  skipper  of  the  Princess  Mary,  carry- 
in'  passengers  from  London  to  Margit,  a  seaside  re- 
sort on  the  Kent  coast  of  the  old  country." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Beatrix,  who  remembered  without 
the  least  pleasure  its  ugly  pier,  stiff  promenade,  and 
heterogeneous  mass  of  trippers. 

"  Is  that  so,  mam  ?  Ah,  some  little  old  place !  I 
give  you  my  word.  Well,  dad  catches  sight  of  mother 
sunnin'  herself  on  deck  and  as  he  use  ter  say,  she 


SCANDAL  255 

stopped  'is  watch,  which  is  slang  fer  love  at  first  glance. 
Bein'  skipper  and  all  like  that  naturally  she  was  a  bit 
bucked  up  when  he  spoke  and  asked  if  she  was  com- 
fortable. That  began  it  and  instead  of  stay  in'  at 
Margit  she  made  the  return  trip  the  next  day,  'ad  a 
fish  supper  along  of  father  at  the  Anchor  Hotel  and  was 
spliced  up  before  the  end  of  the  week." 

"  Very  romantic,"  said  Beatrix,  "  and  what 
then?" 

"  Well,"  said  Jones,  with  a  little  laugh,  "  then  there 
was  me,  the  first  of  nine,  and  mother  give  up  'er  terpsi- 
chorean  career,  so  ter  speak." 

"  But  she  taught  you  all  to  dance?  " 

"  Yes,  mam,  and  the  last  time  I  saw  the  old  man 
was  at  a  concert  in  aid  of  the  orphans  of  seamen  at 
Barking  Creek  and  me  and  me  brothers  and  sisters, 
with  mother  in  the  middle,  give  an  exhibition  of  fancy 
dancin'  and  I  wish  you  could  'ave  seen  the  old  man's 
face.  He  died  shortly  after  that." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Beatrix,  wondering  whether  he 
meant  from  the  effects  of  that  evening. 

"  Thank  you,  mam,  but  he  'ad  the  satisfaction  of 
seein'  his  five  sons  well  placed  at  sea  and  his  gals  doin' 
fine  business  on  the  'alls  as  '  The  Four  Delantys,'  arid 
very,  very  'ot  stuff  too,  I  give  you  my  word." 

"  How  splendid.  You  must  be  very  proud  to  belong 
to  such  a  family.  I'll  get  you  to  tell  me  some  more 
about  this  romantic  love  match  while  we're  out." 

"  Any  time,  mam,  with  pleasure,"  and  then  with 
great  style  the  man,  who  was  as  good  a  sailor  as  he  was 
a  dancer,  saluted.  Evidently  he  was  to  be  dismissed. 


256  SCANDAL 

"  Well,  as  I  said  before,  she  can  'ave  me"  he  said  to 
himself  as  pleased  as  Punch. 

"  Have  you  to  be  up  early  in  the  morning?  " 

"  Yes,  mam,  five  o'clock.  We  heave  to  for  a  couple 
of  hours  for  me  to  go  ashore  with  the  mail  and  pick  up 
the  papers  and  magazines." 

Beatrix  nearly  jumped  out  of  her  skin.  He  was  go- 
ing ashore !  Here  was  her  chance  without  taking  this 
man  into  her  confidence  or  bribing  him  to  disobey  pos- 
sible orders.  "  I'll  be  up  at  five  too,"  she  said,  trying 
to  keep  her  voice  steady.  "  You  shall  take  me  with 
you.  Mr.  Franklin  has  a  birthday  to-morrow  and  you 
solve  the  problem  of  how  I  can  get  something  for  him, 
as  a  little  surprise." 

"  Very  glad,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Jones. 

"  Good  night,  then.  Be  sure  you  don't  go  without 
me.  I  won't  keep  you  waiting." 

She  was  far  too  excited  to  go  to  sleep  and  lay  for 
an  hour  making  plans  and  already  revelling  in  her  tri- 
umph over  Franklin.  She  had  told  the  stewardess  to 
call  her  at  half-past  four.  It  would  be  easy  to  tele- 
phone to  the  town  where  Brownie  and  Mrs.  Larpent 
would  have  to  spend  the  night  and  after  all  she  would 
have  her  motor  tour.  She  would  leave  the  baggage  on 
the  yacht.  What  did  it  matter?  Life  was  very  good, 
—  and  her  little  lie  about  Franklin's  birthday  was  bril- 
liant ! 

She  heard  Franklin  striding  up  and  down  the  deck 
like  a  sentry.  It  made  her  feel  even  more  like  a  pris- 
oner than  ever. 

Only  Franklin  and  the  watching  stars  knew  who  was 


SCANDAL  257 

the  real  prisoner,  sentenced  for  life  to  a  love  that  set  a 
hitherto  untouched  heart  into  a  great  blaze. 

The  morning  was  dull  and  leaden  and  windless,  the 
sea  as  flat  as  the  palm  of  a  hand.  Dressed  and  ready 
in  good  time  and  wearing  a  most  amazing  smile,  Bea- 
trix slipped  out  of  her  stateroom  and  over  to  the  port 
side.  Mr.  Jones  was  waiting  in  the  small  launch,  talk- 
ing to  one  of  the  sailors.  She  was  going  to  escape 
from  her  floating  jail,  yes,  escape.  How  she  would 
love  to  be  able  to  see  Franklin's  face  when  she  didn't 
turn  up  for  breakfast. 

And  then  her  arm  was  seized  in  an  iron  grip.  "  No, 
you  don't.  Believe  me,  no." 

It  was  Franklin,  with  an  overcoat  over  his  dinner 
jacket.  He  had  obviously  not  been  to  bed. 

She  drew  up  and  tried  to  bluff.  "  I'm  only  going 
to  ring  up  Mrs.  Keene  and  tell  her " 

"  Go  back  to  your  room !  " 

"  But  I  must  give  her  instructions  as  to  what " 

"  Go  back  to  your  room,  I  tell  you." 

She  stamped  her  foot.  This  man  was  unendurable, 
—  and  his  hand  hurt  her  arm.  "  What  is  all  this  ? 
Do  you  suppose  that  I'm  going  to  take  orders  from 
you?" 

"  Jones,  get  off,"  he  shouted,  "  and  don't  hold  us  up 
longer  than  you  need." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  answered  the  dancing  sailor, 
who  wished  he  could  have  heard  what  had  been 
said. 

"  As  to  taking  orders  from  me,  yes,  from  now  on- 


258  SCANDAL 

wards.     Breakfast  is  at  nine,"  and  he  gave  her  back 
her  arm  and  turned  away. 

Beatrix  put  her  hand  over  her  mouth  to  gag  a  scream 
of  anger.  But  she  would  make  him  pay  for  this,  with 
the  other  debts.  She  would  indeed.  If  Mr.  Jones 
couldn't  be  worked  upon  again,  there  were  the  first  of- 
ficer and  the  Captain, —  and  they,  unlike  this  cold- 
blooded bully,  were  men. 


XXIX 

IT  had  been  a  queer  day  for  Franklin. 

Beginning  with  anger  it  gradually  led  him  into  a 
dozen  other  emotions, —  a  reluctant  admiration  for  the 
cunning  way  in  which  Beatrix  had  been  going  to  take 
advantage  of  Horatio  Jones;  amusement  when  she 
didn't  appear  for  breakfast  and  he  thought  that  she 
was  sulking;  loneliness  when  tea-time  came  and  there 
was  still  no  sign  of  her;  finally  fright,  sheer,  honest 
fright  when  he  discovered  at  sun-down  that  she  had 
not  rung  for  the  stewardess  during  the  whole  of  the 
day. 

He  sent  for  the  stewardess.  "  Why  do  you  sup- 
pose Mrs.  Franklin  hasn't  needed  you?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  sir."  The  woman  was 
evidently  worried  too.  She  fingered  her  apron  nerv- 
ously. 

"  When  were  you  in  her  room  last  ?  " 

"  At  half-past  eight,  sir." 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  sir,  I  called  Mrs.  Franklin  at  four-thirty  this 
morning " 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  And  I  went  in  again  as  usual  at  half -past  eight  to 
see  what  I  could  do  to  help  in  any  way  and  Mrs, 
Franklin  had  gone  back  to  bed,  sir." 

"  Go  on." 


26o  SCANDAL 

"  Well,  sir,  I  hung  about  for  a  few  minutes  and  then 
Mrs.  Franklin  half  woke  up  and  said :  '  I'm  tired, 
don't  come  again  until  I  ring.' ' 

"  You're  quite  sure  she  hasn't  rung?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I've  never  left  my  cabin, —  had  my 
meals  brought  there,  sir,  in  case " 

"  I  see.  Thank  you."  He  opened  the  door  for  the 
sturdy  little  woman  who  seemed  to  have  caught  his 
anxiety,  and  then  killed  the  longest  half  an  hour  that 
he  remembered  ever  to  have  spent.  Was  Beatrix  in 
her  stateroom?  Had  she  by  any  chance  got  away? 
That  was  absurd.  How  could  she  with  officers  and 
crew  about  all  day?  Naturally  she  was  tired,  having 
been  up  so  early,  but  why  stay  in  bed  for  so  many 
hours?  Her  vitality  and  love  of  movement,  her  con- 
stant desire  to  do  things  and  take  exercise,  her  homo- 
geneous nature  which  led  her  to  talk  to  all  and  sundry 
made  it  impossible  for  her  either  to  wake  or  sleep  for 
such  a  long  time.  She  must  be  ill !  Yes,  that  was  it. 
She  had  fainted  or  done  one  of  the  queer  things  that  he 
had  heard  of  women  doing.  The  stewardess  must  see 
her  at  once.  Why  ?  She  was  no  use.  For  one  thing 
she  stood  in  awe  of  this  girl  who  gave  such  definite 
orders  and  saw  that  they  were  observed.  For  an- 
other she  was  rough  and  untrained  and  probably 
incompetent  and  like  all  her  countrywomen  sensa- 
tional. She  might  scream  or  something.  .  .  .  For 
Heaven's  sake  what  was  he  to  do  ? 

With  all  his  nerves  jangling  like  a  bunch  of  tele- 
graph wires  in  a  gale  he  went  aft.  The  sun  had  gone. 
It  was  almost  dark.  One  star  had  come  up,  the  out- 


SCANDAL  1261 

post  of  the  night.  There  was,  he  saw,  no  light  in  her 
suite.  He  stood  at  her  door,  irresolute,  with  the  hand 
of  fright  on  his  heart.  He  was  homesick  for  the  sight 
of  her  and  the  sound  of  her  voice,  even  if  it  should  be 
cold  and  antagonistic,  or  mocking  and  scornful.  He 
felt  oddly  and  strangely  young  and  lonely  and  worried, 
afraid  of  some  intangible  thing.  Suppose  she  had 
done  something 

He  couldn't  bear  the  thought.  ;He  opened  her  door, 
shut  it  and  went  in  and  stood  in  the  dark.  It  was  the 
sitting-room.  On  the  table  in  the  middle  there  was  a 
reading  lamp.  He  groped  about  and  found  it  and 
turned  it  up.  There  was  a  book  on  the  floor,  open 
face  down,  its  leaves  all  bent  under.  It  must  have 
been  flung  there.  A  soft,  black  hat  was  lying  up 
against  the  wall.  It  looked  hurt.  And  everywhere 
there  was  the  subtle  influence  of  scent. 

He  went  across  to  the  bedroom  door,  hesitated, 
turned  the  handle  and  went  in. 

By  the  light  from  the  sitting-room  door,  he  could  see 
the  bed.  The  blankets  had  been  flung  back  and  under 
a  sheet  Beatrix  lay,  her  cheek  on  one  hand,  the  other 
soft  and  flaccid,  palm-up,  on  the  cover.  A  great  fan 
of  golden  hair  covered  the  pillow.  She  was  lying  on 
her  side  like  a  child  with  her  knees  drawn  up  and  one 
bare  shoulder  gleaming. 

The  eternal  yearning  of  Nature  made  Franklin  want 
to  cry  out  at  the  sight  of  her.  He  stood  humble,  inar- 
ticulate, bewitched.  The  room  seemed  to  be  filled 
with  the  sound  of  sweet,  far-away  voices. 

He  went  forward  and  bent  over  her,  listening  to 


262  SCANDAL 

her  breathing.  It  was  agony  to  be  so  near  and  so 
far  away.  After  a  moment  she  laughed  softly  and 
stirred  like  a  waking  flower  and  drew  up  her  hand 
and  moved  it  lazily  as  if  trying  to  catch  the  figure  of 
sleep  that  was  turning  to  go. 

He  drew  back  quickly,  panting. 

"  Is  that  you,  Brownie  dear  ?  Oh-ho,  I've  had  such 
a  lovely  rest.  I've  been  lying  all  among  buttercups  and 
clover  far,  far  away  from  the  sea.  It's  good  to  be  on 
land  again  and  hear  the  birds  sing  and  watch  the 
grasses  nod."  She  turned  over  and  stretched  and 
gave  a  long  sigh  and  opened  her  eyes.  Then 
she  looked  about  astonished  and  sat  up  quickly, 
startled. 

"  Who's  there  ? "  Her  voice  was  sharp  and 
frightened. 

"  Me,"  said  Franklin. 

"  You !  "     She  put  her  hands  over  her  breasts. 

"  I'm  sorry.  I  thought  you  were  ill."  How  tame 
it  sounded! 

"111?     Why?" 

"  It's  late  and  you  haven't  rung  for  the  stewardess 
all  day.  I  wondered  if  anything  was  the  matter.  So 
I  came  in.  That's  all.  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you?" 

"  Only  —  go,"  she  said. 

And  so  he  turned  and  went  out  and  strode  forward 
and  stood  hatless  under  the  sky.  Other  stars  had 
come.  The  line  of  horizon  had  become  merged  into 
the  darkness.  The  breeze  left  the  taste  of  salt  on  his 
parched  lips.  The  eternal  yearning  grew  in  the  si- 


SCANDAL  263 

lence  and  the  call  of  Nature  seemed  to  echo  through  the 
world.  Everything  that  was  true  and  clean  and  hon- 
est in  him  answered  to  it.  All  his  dreams  as  a  boy  and 
a  youth,  vague,  unremembered ;  all  the  sudden,  surpris- 
ing elations  that  had  swept  over  him  at  the  sight, 
perhaps,  of  a  priceless  view  of  open  country,  the  misty 
interior  of  an  old  Cathedral,  the  appeal  of  a  throb- 
bing melody,  took  shape  and  became  the  lovely  body  of 
that  sleeping  girl.  He  had  never  understood  so  defi- 
nitely, so  conclusively,  so  permanently,  that  in 
Beatrix  was  the  epitome  of  all  his  hopes. 

She  dined  in  her  own  room  that  night  and  had 
breakfast  sent  to  her  in  the  morning.  Franklin  hung 
about  near  her  stateroom  in  the  hope  of  seeing  her. 
He  could  hear  her  singing  as  he  passed  and  talking  to 
the  little  Irish  woman,  but  at  twelve  o'clock  there  was 
still  no  sign  of  her  on  deck.  He  was  just  going  along 
to  the  Captain's  room  in  order  to  talk  and  be  talked 
to  when  the  stewardess  came  and  gave  him  a  note. 
He  took  it  and  blushed  like  a  school-boy  and  carried  it 
down  to  his  own  room. 

It  had  no  conventional  beginning.  It  plunged 
straight  to  the  point.  "  I'm  not  sulking,  which  would 
be  human  enough,  or  suffering  from  shock,  which 
would  be  reasonable  under  the  circumstances.  I'm 
thinking  and  weighing  things  up.  I've  told  the  stew- 
ardess that  I've  got  neuralgia  so  that  the  people  of 
your  small  kingdom  may  not  run  away  with  the  notion 
that  their  rulers  have  had  a  wordy  argument.  I  may 
inflict  myself  upon  you  for  lunch  if  by  that  time  I  have 
found  the  way  out  of  my  mental  maze.  If  not,  you 


264  SCANDAL 

may  be  alone  in  all  your  glory  for  days, —  weeks  per- 
haps." 

It  ended  as  abruptly  as  it  began. 

Days, —  weeks  perhaps ! 


XXX 

HAVING  written  the  note,  Beatrix  proceeded  to  dress 
for  lunch. 

It  was  altogether  a  new  thing  to  be  without  a  maid 
and  a  companion.  Never  once  in  all  her  life,  not  even 
at  school,  had  she  been  permitted  to  raise  a  finger  for 
herself.  Helene  and  Mrs.  Lester  Keene  would  have 
stood  aghast  and  imagined  that  the  end  of  the  world 
was  at  hand  if  they  could  have  seen  her  that  morning 
doing  her  hair,  putting  on  her  shoes  and  choosing  a 
frock.  She  did  these  things  without  assistance  from 
the  stewardess,  who  stood  by  impotent  and  uneasy, 
because  she  enjoyed  the  experience  as  a  deviation  from 
the  regular  routine  of  her  life  and  found  plenty  to 
laugh  at  in  her  ridiculous  inexpertness.  It  was  a  game 
and  after  her  orgy  of  sleep  she  felt  so  electrically  fit 
and  vital  as  to  be  ready  to  play  at  anything,  especially 
if  it  was  new. 

It  was  true  that  she  had  been  thinking.  Sitting 
like  a  tailor  on  her  bed,  with  her  hair  in  a  flood  about 
her  shoulders,  she  had  gone  over  the  last  two  incidents 
of  this  queer  honeymoon  trip  with  great  care.  She 
was  astonished,  and  even  a  little  uneasy,  to  find  that 
she  was  beginning  to  look  at  the  whole  business  from  a 
new  angle.  She  discovered,  after  an  honest  examina- 
tion, that  the  mere  romantic  side  of  this  kidnapping 


266  SCANDAL 

expedition,  as  she  called  it,  no  longer  interested  her, 
nor  its  unconventionally,  either,  although  she  chuckled 
to  think  of  the  mistaken  complacency  of  her  family  in 
aiding  and  abetting  Franklin  to  commit  a  breach  that 
was  without  a  parallel  in  the  history  of  American  so- 
ciety: It  was  enough  to  make  a  cat  laugh.  What  it 
seemed  to  her  to  lack  was  the  element  of  personal 
danger  which  had  made  the  episode  in  her  bedroom  a 
very  real  fright.  There  was,  it  seemed  to  her,  no  red 
blood  in  the  business,  no  flare  of  sex.  Franklin  was 
either  the  most  cold-blooded  man  imaginable  or  a  past 
master  of  the  art  of  hiding  his  feelings. 

This  was  what  she  wanted  to  find  out.  Her  think- 
ing led  her  up  to  the  fact  that  her  interest  and  curiosity 
were  centered  on  this  one  point.  She  was  perfectly 
frank  in  acknowledging  to  herself  that  her  vanity  was 
piqued.  All  other  men,  except  Malcolm,  who,  after 
all,  was  not  so  much  a  man  as  a  poet,  had  made  it 
plain  that  they  were  men.  Her  femininity  had  tri- 
umphed. But  with  Franklin  it  was  different.  Was  it 
possible  that  the  more  he  was  with  her  the  less  he  was 
attracted?  Here  was  something  on  which  to  concen- 
trate and  use  her  wits. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  the  excitement  of  having 
found  something  to  do,  a  new  game  to  play  at,  a  new 
chapter  to  begin,  that  she  dressed  for  lunch.  The 
muddle  in  which  she  left  her  stateroom, —  skirts  that 
she  had  looked  at,  considered  and  discarded,  stockings 
and  shoes  all  over  the  floor,  shirts  and  ties  all  chaotic  in 
the  drawers, —  was  a  sight  to  see. 

Only  a  few  minutes  late,  she  swung  into  the  dining- 


SCANDAL  267 

saloon,  fresh  and  sweet,  dancing-eyed  and  vital,  ready 
to  seize  the  first  chance  of  putting  Franklin  to  a  new 
test. 

He  had  none  of  the  look  of  a  man  who  had  been  up 
all  night,  tortured  by  a  desire  that  had  kept  him  pacing 
the  hours  away  beneath  a  supremely  indifferent  moon. 
He  had  just  come  in  from  a  swim.  His  body,  having 
been  exercised,  was  grateful  and  in  fine  fettle.  His 
skin  was  burned  a  deeper  brown.  He  was  as  hard 
as  nails.  He  had  not  expected  to  see  her,  but  from 
force  of  habit  had  waited  in  case  she  should  come. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said,  cheerily. 

"  Good  morning."     He  was  cheery,  too. 

"  You've  waited  for  me,  I  see." 

"Of  course.     I  hoped  you'd  come." 

"  You  say  that  as  if  you  meant  it." 

"  I  do  mean  it." 

"  So  bored  that  you  can  even  put  up  with  me?  " 

"  I'm  never  bored  at  sea." 

Her  laugh  rang  out.  "  I  gave  you  a  perfect  chance 
to  say  something  nice,"  she  said. 

"  I'm  not  much  of  a  hand  at  saying  nice 
things." 

"  I  notice  that." 

Franklin  let  the  challenge  go.  He  had  never  felt  it 
more  necessary  to  keep  a  gag  in  his  mouth.  The 
things  that  were  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue  to  say  were  too 
primeval  to  put  into  words. 

"  Have  you  missed  me?  " 

"  We've  all  missed  you." 

"  I  asked  if  you'd  missed  me?  " 


268  SCANDAL 

"  Yes." 

"  All  right,  my  friend,"  she  thought,  "  wait  a  bit." 

She  gave  a  nod  and  a  smile  to  the  stewards  and  ate 
with  such  excellent  appetite  that  their  efforts  were  well 
rewarded.  The  sun  was  cheerful,  the  saloon  was 
cheerful,  the  stewards  quick  and  willing,  and  Franklin, 
—  yes,  Franklin  was  certainly  a  very  good-looking  per- 
son. Bother  the  yacht,  and  her  people  and  what  had 
happened  to  Brownie,  and  the  loss  of  a  maid!  Life 
was  full  of  fun. 

"  The  other  day  you  said  something  about  a  fishing 
trip." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  Tell  me  about  it." 

"  Well,  I'd  arranged  with  McLeod  to  go  off  on  the 
big  launch  for  three  days  but " 

"But  what?" 

"  It's  not  much  fun  going  alone." 

Here  was  her  first  chance.  "  Take  me,"  she  cried, 
leaning  forward.  "  I'd  love  to  go.  I've  never  fished, 
but  you  could  teach  me." 

Franklin  looked  at  her  sharply  to  see  if  she  were 
joking.  But  her  expression  was  that  of  a  child  eager 
for  adventure.  "  But  the  launch  has  no  cabin,"  he 
said,  "  and  we  sleep  under  a  hood  hauled  over  her." 

This  was  wonderful, —  a  test,  indeed.  She  pressed 
the  point  eagerly.  "  Why  not  ?  I  don't  mind  rough- 
ing it.  I  don't  mind  anything  if  it  has  compensa- 
tions. Come  out  and  talk  it  over." 

Franklin  followed  her.  She  was  leaning  against  the 
rail  with  the  breeze  in  her  hair  and  the  sunlight  on  her 


SCANDAL  269 

shoulders.  What  if  he  fell  in  with  her  impetuous 
wish?  Jones  and  one  of  the  crew  would  sleep,  as 
usual,  up  in  the  peak  and  he  and  she  must  lie  almost 
side  by  side  under  the  awning  in  the  stern. 

"  Please  don't  make  difficulties,"  she  said.  "  Let  me 
have  my  own  way  just  for  once." 

He  could  have  yelled  with  laughter.  Confound  it, 
the  girl  was  having  her  own  way  all  the  time,  except  in 
unessential  things. 

"  There  are  various  degrees  of  roughing  it,"  he  said, 
cursing  his  conscience. 

"  Yes,  but  if  I  don't  mind, —  if  I  want  to?  " 

"  Have  a  look  at  the  launch,  and  then  think." 

"  I'm  tired  of  thinking.  Arrange  it, —  please  ar- 
range it."  She  didn't  want  in  the  least  to  go,  and  she 
knew  better  than  he  did  how  absurd  the  idea  was. 
But  here  was  a  chance  to  force  him  out  of  inarticula- 
tion,  to  see  his  self -composure  crumble  and  break. 

"  Three  days  out.  Hardly  room  to  swing  a  cat. 
Two  men  with  us " 

Beatrix  gave  an  impatient  sigh.  "  I  wish  to  heaven 
I  wasn't  a  girl,"  she  said,  and  waited  expectantly. 

It  was  no  good.  Franklin's  hot  words  were  choked 
back.  He  didn't  know  the  Eden  game  that  she  was 
playing  and  would  be  hanged  before  he  would  give 
himself  away  to  be  laughed  at. 

And  so  the  moment  passed. 

She  walked  up  and  down  with  him  for  an  hour, 
laughing  and  talking.  He  was  amazed  to  find  that  she 
was  more  friendly  and  charming  than  ever  before  and 
that  her  sleep  seemed  to  have  removed  from  her  mind 


270  SCANDAL 

all  trace  of  resentment.  "  Let's  talk  young  stuff,"  she 
said.  "  What  we  believe  in,  what  we  think  we  might 
do  to  solve  all  the  problems  of  the  world  and  all  that, 
shall  we?  It's  awfully  good  to  get  on  a  high  horse 
every  now  and  then  and  sweep  away  institutions  with  a 
phrase,  knock  down  old  laws  with  a  well-aimed  verb, 
and  topple  big  men  out  of  their  places  with  the  tip 
of  a  toe." 

And  they  did  so  in  the  old-new  way  of  youth,  say- 
ing things  earnestly,  with  the  air  of  prophets,  that  had 
been  labelled  unpractical  before  they  were  born;  letting 
their  tongues  run  away  with  them  as  far  as  they 
could  before  they  limped  and  halted ;  listening  to  each 
other  with  their  eyes  while  getting  the  next  outburst 
ready  in  their  brains.  And  after  awhile,  as  usual,  they 
steered  into  personalities,  likes  and  dislikes  and  mutual 
friends. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  Ida  Larpent  ?  "  Beatrix 
asked  suddenly. 

"  Very  attractive,  but " 

"  But  better  as  somebody  else's  dinner  partner?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Franklin.  "  She  made  the  aver- 
age dinner  bearable.  She's  in  a  class  of  her  own, — 
beautiful,  well-travelled,  tremendously  all  there,  and 
awfully  good  fun  to  take  about." 

"Take  about?"  Her  eyebrows  went  up.  "Did 
you  take  her  about  ?  But  perhaps  that's  rather  an  in- 
discreet question  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  When  I  was  in  town  some  months 
ago,  bored  stiff, —  all  my  pals  being  away, —  she  was  a 
real  good  sort  and  we  did  the  rounds, —  everything  ex- 


SCANDAL  271 

cept  the  Opera  —  which  seemed  to  be  having  an  orgy 
of  Wagner,  and  I  can't  stand  that  over-exuberant 
German.  I  did  a  cycle  of  him  once  in  London  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  if  he'd  had  the  sense  and  honesty 
to  scrap  sixty  per  cent  of  his  stuff  there  would  have 
been  enough  over  for  two  very  decent  operas.  What 
do  you  think  ?  " 

She  said  something  to  keep  the  ball  going  but 
nothing  of  what  she  thought.  So  he  could  own  to 
having  been  so  attracted  by  Ida  Larpent  as  to  take  her 
about  night  after  night,  but  when  it  came  to  her, 
Beatrix,  he  could  remain  perfectly  normal. 

And  again  she  thought :  "  All  right,  my  friend, 
wait  a  bit."  If  she  couldn't  compete  with  Ida  Larpent 
—  good  Lord ! 

But  no,  even  under  the  rankle  of  this  new  thing, 
and  even  though  she  went  to  dinner  that  night  in  a 
mood  as  daring  and  devil-may-care  as  her  dress  and 
stood  looking  out  at  the  star-bespattered  sky  for  a  long 
time  with  her  arm  through  his,  he  remained  brotherly. 
In  fact,  and  in  not  seeing  it  her  observation  was  un- 
characteristically out  of  form, —  her  new  delightful 
treatment  of  him  made  him  very  happy  and  contented. 
She  was  so  charming  and  natural  and  breezy.  She 
never  once  laughed  at  him  or  held  him  up  to  ridicule. 
He  could  almost  persuade  himself  that  they  were 
really  on  a  honeymoon,  except  when  a  whiff  of  scent 
bewildered  his  senses  or  the  gleam  of  her  whiteness 
made  his  heart  tumble. 

And  so  it  went  on  for  several  apparently  unevent- 
ful days, —  days  full  of  sun  and  health  and  simple  con- 


272  SCANDAL 

fidences,  of  wide,  gorgeous  views  of  sea  and  sky,  of  all 
the  exquisite  coloring  of  sunrise  and  sunset,  and  of 
the  sweet  singing  of  far-away  voices.  It  was  to  bed 
that  she  took  her  growing  pique;  in  the  quiet  of  her 
own  room  that  she  asked  herself,  like  the  spoiled  child 
that  she  was,  what  was  the  matter  with  this  man. 
Under  normal  conditions,  if  they  had  been,  perhaps, 
members  of  a  house-party,  she  would  have  liked  him 
extremely.  He  had  greatly  improved  on  acquaintance. 
He  was  something  more  than  a  sportsman.  He  had 
imagination,  idealism,  extraordinary  simplicity  and 
even  a  touch, —  odd  as  she  found  it  in  his  type, —  of 
spirituality.  It  came  out  in  his  deep  appreciation  of 
Nature  and  love  of  melody.  Why  didn't  he  find  her 
attractive, —  even  as  attractive  as  Ida  Larpent  ? 

Only  the  nights  were  permitted  by  Franklin  to  see 
the  strength  of  his  desire,  the  torture  of  his  passion; 
and  these  he  killed  and  wore  away  by  pacing  intermin- 
ably up  and  down,  throwing  himself  on  his  bed  finally 
tired  out  mentally  and  physically. 

Very  soon  the  game  lost  its  novelty.  Getting  noth- 
ing to  appease  her  vanity  Beatrix  gave  it  up.  Once 
more  the  monotony  of  the  sea  bored  her,  the  sensation 
of  being  tied  by  the  leg  got  on  her  nerves.  Franklin 
said  a  rather  impatient  thing  one  morning  in  reply  to 
a  sarcastic  remark  of  hers  and  before  she  could  stop 
herself  and  remember  to  stick  to  her  pose  of  complete 
indifference  she  put  her  hand  imploringly  on  his  arm 
and  burst  into  an  intense  and  genuine  appeal.  "  Well, 
let's  end  it,"  she  begged.  "  Nothing  can  come 
of  all  this,  nothing  at  all.  You're  only  dodging  the 


SCANDAL  273 

issue,  really  you  are.  Don't  let's  play  the  fool  any 
longer.  The  more  you  try  to  force  me  to  agree  to  your 
plan  the  harder  I  shall  fight.  Don't  you  know  me  yet  ? 
I'm  built  like  that.  I  can't  help  it.  Oh,  do  be  sane 
about  it  and  come  down  to  facts.  We  shall  both  grow 
old  and  grey  on  this  prison  ship  because  I'll  never  give 
in,  never.  It  isn't  that  I  don't  think  you're  right. 
You  are.  I'll  concede  that.  We  ought  to  marry  and 
settle  the  whole  trouble.  It's  the  easiest  way.  But 
I've  said  I  won't,  and  I  won't.  I  tell  you  I  won't. 
I  know  I'm  a  fool.  I  know  I'm  pig-headed.  I  know 
I  deserve  to  be  made  to  pay.  But  you  can't  alter  me 
now.  It's  too  late.  So  let  me  off  and  I'll  take  my 
punishment  and  the  whole  thing  will  blow  over.  Peo- 
ple's memories  are  short  and  every  day,  every  hour 
other  scandals  come  up,  are  talked  about  and  forgot- 
ten. Pelham,  will  you  please  be  good  and  let  me  go?  " 

All  this  came  with  a  rush.  Her  voice  was  soft  and 
winning,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  her  hand  warm  and 
sweet  upon  his  arm.  But  every  word  that  she  said, 
every  look  that  she  gave  him,  every  touch  of  appeal 
that  came  into  her  voice  made  her  more  and  more 
valuable  as  the  prize  of  his  life,  and  the  sight  of  her 
tears,  especially  the  sight  of  her  tears,  steeled  him  to 
stick  to  his  job  to  the  very  end.  All  her  spoiling,  all 
the  falsity  of  her  training,  all  the  grotesque  power  of 
the  wealth  with  which  she  had  always  been  surrounded, 
had  not  completely  changed  her  from  the  little  girl 
whom  Malcolm  had  painted  in  his  never-to-be-forgot- 
ten picture,  and  of  whom  he  had  himself  seen  glimpses. 

"  No,"  he  said.     "  I'm  as  pig-headed  as  you  are.     I 


274  SCANDAL 

don't  care  if  we  do  grow  old  and  grey  on  this  yacht. 
You've  got  to  marry  me." 

Beatrix  drew  back.  She  was  cold  and  angry  and 
bitterly  annoyed  with  herself  for  having  asked  once 
more  for  mercy.  "  All  right,"  she  said.  "  Then  the 
fight  goes  on,  and  I  give  you  warning  that  I  shall  use 
any  weapons,  fair  or  unfair,  that  I  can  find." 

Before  she  could  turn  away  and  hide  the  marks  of 
her  tears,  Captain  McLeod  came  up.  She  smiled  and 
gave  him  a  cheery  word.  It  was  admirably  and  char- 
acteristically well  done. 

"  McLeod,"  said  Franklin  quietly.  "  Tell  Jones  to 
get  the  big  launch  fixed  up  right  away.  He's  to  come 
with  me  on  the  fishing  trip." 

Beatrix  left  them  to  talk  over  the  arrangements. 
What  did  she  care  where  he  went?  He  could  go  to 
the  devil  if  he  liked.  She  whistled  as  she  moved  away 
but  her  eyes  were  black  with  rage.  This  man  who  had 
the  temerity,  the  impudence  not  only  to  stand  up  to  her 
but  to  set  himself  to  bend  her  to  his  will  should  see  now 
of  what  sort  of  stuff  she  was  made.  Up  to  that  very 
moment,  in  the  face  of  everything  that  he  had  done, 
she  had  not  cared  to  believe  that  this  struggle  of  wills, 
this  clash  of  temperaments,  was  worth  taking  with  real 
seriousness.  She  had  dodged  it,  laid  it  aside,  treated 
it  as  half  a  joke,  believed  that  if  she  really  exerted  her- 
self it  could  be  brought  to  a  quick  and  definite  end. 
She  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  rouse  herself  fully  and 
set  her  wits  at  work  to  get  away  from  the  yacht. 
The  pleasure  of  playing  with  fire  was  too  great.  She 
really  had  wished  to  see  how  far  Franklin  would  go. 


SCANDAL  275 

But  now,  having  humbled  herself  again  and  been 
turned  down,  she  went  round  another  mental  corner. 
Her  interest  and  curiosity  in  the  affair  had  come  sud- 
denly to  an  end.  What  did  it  matter  in  what  way  her 
family  would  presently  revenge  themselves?  This, — 
this  business, —  was  insufferable.  To  be  dictated  to, 
coerced,  compelled,  driven, —  good  Heavens,  it  was  not 
to  be  endured.  From  that  moment  she  would  set  her- 
self to  outwit  him,  humiliate  him  and  laugh  in  his  face. 
The  work  that  she  had  begun  with  Mr.  Jones  in  a  half- 
hearted way  would  now,  of  course,  count  for  nothing. 
He  was  going  with  Franklin.  But  there  remained 
Captain  McLeod  and  the  first  officer,  and  she  would 
have  three  days.  Revolutions  had  been  brought  about 
in  less  time  than  that,  and  she  had  smiled  other  men, 
including  Franklin,  into  her  service. 

She  went  to  the  glass  in  her  stateroom  and  rubbed 
away  the  marks  of  her  tears  with  impatience  and  scorn. 
Then  she  stood  back  so  that  she  could  see  the  full 
length  of  her  figure  and  took  stock,  measured  herself 
up,  made  a  cool  and  keen  examination.  Finally,  hav- 
ing turned  this  way  and  that,  she  nodded  at  her  reflec- 
tion with  approval.  "  Fair  or  unfair, —  we'll  see,"  she 
said.  "  There  are  the  Captain  and  the  first  officer." 

And  then,  smiling  again  and  happy  in  having  come 
at  last  to  a  conclusion,  she  changed  into  gym  kit  and 
in  five  minutes  was  perched  up  on  the  wooden  horse, 
riding  hell  for  leather, 


XXXI 

THERE,  half  an  hour  later,  Franklin  found  her. 

The  horse  was  motionless.  She  was  sitting  side 
saddle  with  one  slim  leg  crossed  over  the  other,  her 
arms  folded  over  her  young  breasts.  She  was  in  deep 
thought  but  there  was  a  little  smile  of  excitement 
round  her  mouth  which,  if  Franklin  had  known  it  as 
well  as  Brownie  did,  would  have  put  him  instantly  on 
his  guard.  Things  happened  when  Beatrix  smiled 
like  that. 

The  port-holes  were  open  and  several  round  patches 
of  sunlight  made  pools  upon  the  floor.  One  had  fas- 
tened upon  the  blue  silk  bathrobe  which  Beatrix  had 
thrown  off.  The  sea  was  as  smooth  as  the  waters  of 
a  lake  and  but  for  the  busy  song  of  the  engines  the 
yacht  might  have  been  lying  against  a  quay. 

Franklin  pulled  up  at  the  door.  He  had  come  up 
quietly  and  unnoticed.  He  held  his  breath  and  stood 
looking,  with  a  curious  mixture  of  homage  and  ire,  at 
this  mere  kid,  as  she  seemed  to  him  to  be,  this  girl- 
child  perched  up  on  that  toy  horse  like  a  fairy  on  a 
toadstool,  lost  in  a  day-dream.  He  asked  himself,  in 
amazement,  what  magic  there  was  all  about  her  that 
had  swung  him  out  of  his  course,  put  a  new  beat  into 
his  heart,  that  could  turn  him  hot  and  cold,  churn  him 
into  a  desire  that  was  at  times  almost  beyond  human 
endurance, —  which  had  put  a  reason  and  a  meaning 


SCANDAL  277 

into  life  that  startled  and  surprised,  laid  enchantment 
upon  him,  made  him  wretched  and  angry  and  eager, 
feel  like  a  king  and  a  clown  in  quick  succession. 

For  the  first  time  since  he  had  met  her  he  had  caught 
her  unawares,  quiet.  It  was  extraordinary.  This  was 
not  the  young  hedgehog,  with  all  her  defenses  pointed, 
the  immature  woman  of  complete  sophistication,  ready 
at  any  moment  to  smile  and  answer  back,  to  hide  be- 
hind a  manner,  to  dart  out  with  a  flash  of  wit,  to  mock, 
to  wheedle,  to  inspire,  to  anger.  This  was  Eve  in 
exile,  the  original  woman  come  upon  suddenly  alone 
in  a  glade,  away  from  any  glistening  pool  in  which  she 
could  watch  the  reflection  of  her  face  and  gleaming 
body,  from  any  Adam  upon  whom  to  try  her  wiles. 
This  was  Beatrix,  herself,  at  last. 

Franklin  moved  to  go.  He  felt  like  Peeping  Tom 
at  the  top  window  of  that  house  in  Coventry  from 
which  he  gloated  upon  the  beauty  of  Godiva  "  clothed 
on  in  Chastity."  It  was  unfair,  almost  indecent,  it 
seemed  to  him,  to  take  advantage  of  this  lovely  chame- 
leon in  her  original  color.  And  as  he  moved  she  heard 
him  and  changed. 

"  Hello,  Strong  Man,"  she  cried  out,  slipping  from 
the  horse.  "What's  the  latest?"  Her  expression 
was  impudent,  her  friendliness  an  audacity. 

Franklin  leaned  against  the  door.  He  had  never 
supposed  that  a  time  would  ever  come  when  he  would 
be  obliged  to  play-act.  "  I've  cut  the  fishing  trip  for 
to-day,"  he  said,  as  though  he  were  talking  to  a  young 
sister.  "  Jones  has  damaged  his  hand  and  as  he's  the 
only  man  I  care  to  take,  the  thing's  off." 


278  SCANDAL 

"Oh,  poor  Mr.  Jones!" 

"  You  implied  just  now  that  you  were  bored  stiff 
with  the  yacht." 

"  Fed  up,  I  meant  to  say,  which  is  several  degrees 
worse." 

"  What  about  coming  out  on  the  small  launch  and 
having  lunch  on  one  of  the  islands  westward?  " 

Beatrix  picked  up  her  bath-robe  and  swung  it  round 
her  shoulders.  "  It  sounds  too  good  to  be  true,"  she 
said,  without  enthusiasm.  "  Thank  you." 

Franklin  blocked  the  door.  She  was  in  his  blood. 
"  Good  God,"  he  cried,  all  out  of  control,  "  why  don't 
you  smash  that  damned  shell  and  be  yourself  all  the 
time?" 

She  raised  her  eyebrows  and  swung  a  tassel  round 
and  round.  "  You  don't  like  my  shell,  then?  " 

"I  loathe  it!" 

"  Well,  nobody  asked  you  to  do  anything  else,  you 
know." 

Her  iciness  and  savoir  faire,  the  fearless  way  in 
which  she  stood  up  to  him,  the  utter  indifference  to  his 
opinion  one  way  or  the  other  on  any  mortal  subject 
crushed  his  passion  as  effectively  as  a  snuffer  on  the 
flame  of  a  candle.  He  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass. 

But  she  had  seen  the  sudden  blaze  in  his  eyes.  It 
was  not  to  be  missed.  She  mistook  it  for  the  sort  of 
passion  that  she  had  unconsciously  roused  in  Suther- 
land York  and  used  her  wits  to  quell.  There  had 
been  none  of  this,  to  her  way  of  thinking,  in  the 
kisses  that  Franklin  had  snatched.  They  were  merely 
to  show  her  that  he  was  owner.  She  had  never  con- 


SCANDAL  279 

ceived  it  possible  that  this  inarticulate  man  could  love 
her.  He  made  it  too  obvious  that  she  fell  far  short 
of  his  ideal.  But  she  had  now  at  last  caught  the 
desired  glimpse  of  that  side  of  his  character  that  she 
had  been  working  to  find.  He  was  not  then  so  su- 
premely self-composed  as  he  made  himself  out  to  be. 
He  had  shown  her,  in  a  flash, —  and  she  got  this  with 
a  great  throb  of  feminine  triumph, —  that  however 
well  he  had  believed  in  the  truth  of  his  scornful  state- 
ment as  to  the  huts  on  the  desert  island  when  he  had 
made  it,  he  would  lie  if  he  repeated  it  now. 

And  with  this  balm  to  the  wound  in  her  vanity, 
which  had  never  healed,  she  passed  him.  He  lived  as 
a  man  again  for  the  first  time  since  the  bedroom  inci- 
dent,—  and  she  liked  him  for  it.  She  got  this  too,  as 
she  went  off  to  her  suite,  and  it  came  on  top  of  her 
determination  to  fight  "  fair  or  unfair,"  as  something 
of  a  shock.  To  begin  to  like  him  when  she  ought  to 
detest  him  most!  —  "  Good  Lord,"  she  said  to  herself 
as  she  dressed  to  go  out  in  the  launch,  with  greater 
pains  than  usual,  "  what  a  mass  of  contradictions  you 
are,  my  child.  What  are  you  really,  I  wonder  ?  —  and 
how  will  all  this  end  ?  " 

Franklin  went  slowly  across  to  the  port-side,  dis- 
heartened and  depressed.  "  What  the  devil's  the  use 
of  me?  Every  time  I  open  my  mouth  it  makes  every- 
thing more  hopeless.  I'm  as  bad  as  a  bull  in  a  china 
shop.  I'd  better  let  her  go  and  chuck  the  whole  blessed 
thing  and,  after  all,  is  there  any  gold  to  dig  out  or  has 
it  all  turned  to  brass  ?  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  know." 


XXXII 

THERE  was  a  certain  amount  of  bustle  going  on. 
The  yacht  had  found  an  anchorage.  The  small  launch 
had  been  let  down.  A  steward  handed  over  a  lunch 
basket  to  Jones,  who  was  "  willing  "  hard  to  be  taken 
along.  Men  moved  at  the  double  in  the  execution  of 
their  duties.  The  first  officer  stood  by  with  a  watch- 
ful eye.  He  had  made  a  small  bet  with  Jones  that  he 
would  be  left  behind. 

It  was  midday  and  very  warm.  There  was  not 
enough  wind  to  tease  a  curl.  When  Beatrix  appeared, 
in  the  fewest  possible  clothes,  she  was  followed  by  the 
stewardess  carrying  a  sort  of  mackintosh  bag  in  which 
were  a  bathing  dress,  a  tin  of  powder,  a  brush  and 
comb,  and  so  forth. 

"  Back  about  five,"  said  Franklin. 

The  first  officer  saluted.  "  Very  good,  sir.  Keep 
an  eye  on  the  weather.  It  looks  like  a  change  to  me." 

"All  right." 

Franklin  got  into  the  launch  and  handed  Beatrix 
aboard.  ".You're  taking  a  coat,  aren't  you?" 

"No,"  said  Beatrix.  ".Why?  It's  lovely  and 
warm." 

"  I'd  like  you  to." 

She  smiled  up  at  him  and  shook  her  head.  She  held 
the  cards  now. 

Franklin  caught  the  eye  of  the  precocious  Jones  and 


SCANDAL  281 

jerked  his  thumb  towards  the  yacht.  The  first  officer 
grinned  to  see  him  nip  aboard.  A  dollar  had  its  uses 
but  it  was  well  worth  ten  to  see  Jones  squashed. 

Away  went  the  launch,  the  happy  pair  in  the  stern, 
the  white  silk  shirt  and  red  tie  of  the  girl  standing  out 
against  the  water,  the  midday  sun  beating  down  from  a 
cloudless  sky  on  the  trim  and  glossy  boat.  Franklin 
turned  his  head  over  his  shoulder,  and  waved  his  left 
hand  at  the  Captain.  The  pit-pit  of  the  motor  awoke 
echoes. 

"  Owe  you  a  bloomin'  dollar,"  said  Jones,  with  a 
touch  of  temper. 

The  first  officer  let  his  laugh  go. 

The  Captain  left  the  bridge,  went  along  to  his  quar- 
ters, took  off  his  coat,  lit  a  cigar  and  sat  down  to  write 
to  his  wife.  It  was  not  his  day  for  writing,  but  on  his 
brain  there  was  a  very  charming  picture  of  a  girl  in  a 
white  silk  shirt  and  a  red  tie. 

Beatrix  crossed  her  legs  and  drew  in  a  long  breath. 
"  The  prisoner  goes  for  an  airing,"  she  said. 

The  chameleon  had  changed  color  again.  Frank- 
lin caught  her  sunny  mood  with  eagerness.  "  Glad  to 
get  off?" 

"  Oh,  goodness,  yes !  I  feel  like  the  man  who  after 
living  at  the  Plaza  for  a  year  sneaked  into  Child's 
for  his  meals.  Anything  for  a  change.  Which  island 
are  you  making  for?  " 

Franklin  pointed.  "  That  one.  It  has  a  natural 
landing-place,  enough  shade " 

"  A  good  place  to  bathe  from  ?  " 

"  But  you're  not  going  to  bathe,  are  you  ? " 


282  SCANDAL 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am !  There  are  my  things.  Have  you 
got  yours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they're  in  the  locker." 

"  I  shall  simply  adore  to  swim.  If  you'd  been  any 
sort  of  a  husband  you'd  have  seen  to  it  before."  She 
shot  this  out  without  thinking.  Her  spirits  were  too 
high  to  bother  about  anything  that  he  might  say. 
She  had  forgotten  'for  the  time  being  that  he  was  a 
man. 

"  Being  your  sort  of  husband,"  he  blurted  out,  "  I 
keep  all  suggestions  to  myself." 

She  gave  one  quick  look  at  him.  Yes,  she  held  the 
cards  now,  all  of  them.  There  would  be  no  more 
monotony  from  day  to  day.  This  man  was  coming 
through,  like  a  negative  in  course  of  development. 
She  would  be  able  to  play  with  him  as  a  cat  plays  with 
a  mouse,  make  him  pay  over  and  over  again  for  having 
hurt  her  so  deeply,  and  as  soon  as  it  suited  her  bring 
him  to  the  point  of  being  willing  and  anxious  to  let  her 
go,  getting  nothing  from  her. 

She  sat  back  and  smiled.  How  infinitely  satisfac- 
tory it  was  to  resume  her  place  in  the  world  and  in  her 
own  esteem!  It  wasn't  her  fault  if  everybody  had 
spoiled  her.  It  was  theirs.  The  point  was,  was  she 
worth  spoiling?  And  for  Franklin  to  say  yes, — 
Franklin  who  had  fought  so  hard  to  wear  a  mask  and 
had  played  the  tyrant  with  such  success, —  that  was 
good  hearing ! 

"  What  time  do  you  propose  having  lunch  ?  "  she 
asked,  after  a  long  and  happy  silence. 

"  Any  time  you  like." 


SCANDAL  283 

"Do  you  mean  that?" 

He  looked  astonished.     "  Yes,  of  course." 

"  I  ask  because  it  will  take  time  for  me  to  get 
used  to  your  showing  me  any  consideration,"  she  said, 
with  the  imp  back  on  her  shoulder.  "  Your  iron  hand 
has  almost  cowed  me.  You  have  nearly  broken  my 
spirit.  I  am  a  humble  creature  now,  grateful  for 
crumbs  of  kindness." 

Franklin  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  until  the 
tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked,  gravely. 

He  turned  and  looked  her  full  in  the  face.  "  The 
devil  was  somewhere  about  when  you  were  born,"  he 
said.  "I  wish  to  Heaven  we  were  back  in  the  good 
old  days  when  men  could  beat  their  women  without 
fear  of  police  and  suffrage  and  all  the  silly  stuff  that 
protects  you  against  your  proper  treatment." 

Before  she  could  answer  he  stopped  the  engine  and 
ran  the  launch  alongside  a  low  ridge  of  rock,  sprang 
out,  helped  her  up,  jammed  a  pin  into  a  cleft  and  fas- 
tened the  painter  to  it. 

She  stood  up  in  front  of  him,  proud  and  glorious  in 
her  youth  and  beauty.  "  Well,  here  we  are  on  your 
desert  island,"  she  said.  "  Beat  me.  Why  don't 
you?" 

For  a  moment  he  said  nothing.  He  ran  his  eyes 
over  her, —  golden  hair,  flower-like  face,  eyes  in  which 
there  was  a  lurking  laugh,  lovely  slim  body.  "  I  almost 
think  you're  not  worth  it,"  he  said. 

Almost!  —  how  foolish  of  him  to  say  that.  One 
day  soon  he  should  withdraw  not  only  the  almost  but 


284  SCANDAL 

the  whole  remark,  on  his  knees, —  and  be  left  there, 
like  a  fool. 

"May  I  have  that  little  bag,  please?"  she  asked, 
sweetly. 

lie  hiked  it  out  and  gave  it  to  her. 

"  You  know  the  island,  don't  you?  " 

"  Every  inch  of  it." 

"  Where  do  you  propose  that  I  shall  undress  ?  " 

"  Come  along  and  I'll  show  you."  He  started  off, 
clambering  over  the  brown  rocks. 

She  followed  to  a  place  about  a  hundred  yards  away, 
—  a  sort  of  cave  on  a  tiny  spread  of  beach.  "  Oh, 
how  perfectly  delightful,"  she  cried.  "  Built  for  bath- 
ing, isn't  it?'* 

"  Don't  go  in  before  I  come  back.  There's  a  strong 
undertow  here.  Sing  out  when  you're  ready,"  and 
away  he  went. 

Beatrix  chose  a  dry  spot  on  the  sand  and  without  a 
second's  hesitation  sat  down  and  started  to  untie  her 
shoes.  She  longed  to  get  into  the  sea,  to  enjoy  the 
exhilaration  of  exercise,  to  feel  the  warm  sun  on  her 
wet  limbs  and  be  a  child  of  Nature.  Franklin  might 
talk  as  glibly  as  he  liked  about  the  good  old  days  but 
he  was  a  sportsman.  She  had  no  fear. 

He  hadn't  long  to  wait.  He  got  into  his  bathing 
things  and  had  only  taken  two  puffs  of  a  cigarette  be- 
fore he  heard  her  call.  Once  more  he  climbed  over 
and  down  the  rocks, —  stopped  for  a  moment  and 
drew  in  his  breath  at  the  sight  of  her, —  and  then  went 
on. 

She  waved  her  hand.     She  was  standing  ankle-deep 


SCANDAL  285 

in  the  sea  with  a  red  rubber  cap  drawn  tightly  over  her 
hair,  without  stockings  and  in  a  suit  that  looked  like  a 
boy's.  "  Delicious,"  she  called  out. 

It  was  the  very  word  he  had  already  discovered. 

And  in  they  tumbled,  laughing  and  splashing,  like 
children.  "  Let's  dry  in  the  sun,"  she  said  coming 
out  breathlessly,  her  face  and  arms  glistening,  the 
wet  suit  as  tight  as  a  black  skin.  She  sat  down  and 
peeled  off  the  rubber  cap  and  shook  her  hair  free. 
"  This  is  the  best  thing  I've  done  for  months." 

He  stood  a  few  yards  away  and  threw  pebbles  into 
the  sea.  He  felt  awfully  young  and  fit.  It  was  almost 
as  good  as  dreaming  to  be  out  there,  like  that,  with 
her.  He  chucked  as  hard  as  he  could,  with  all  his 
force,  competing  against  each  good  shot.  "  How 
about  that  ?  "  he  cried  out,  with  a  laugh. 

Beatrix  looked  at  him.  She  had  merely  accepted 
him  before.  He  was  like  the  bronze  figure  of  "  The 
Runner  "  come  to  life,  with  his  small  head  and  broad, 
deep  chest,  hard  muscular  arms,  clean,  hipless  lines, 
tremendous  strength.  The  sight  of  him  gave  her  a 
sudden,  unexplainable  sense  of  shyness.  She  tried  to 
shake  it  off.  It  was  disconcerting  and  foolish. 

He  flung  himself  down  and  began  to  babble  to  her, 
pouring  sand  through  his  fingers.  His  dark,  thick 
hair  was  still  wet.  His  skin  was  tanned  almost  black. 
The  whites  of  his  eyes  were  as  white  as  his  teeth. 
His  moustache,  red  as  a  rule,  was  burned  to  the  color 
of  straw.  An  odd  thought  flashed  through  her  mind. 
He  must  like  her  to  have  spared  her,  to  have  respected 
her,  How  easy  to  have  broken  her  if  he'd  cared ! 


286  SCANDAL 

"Isn't  it  wonderful  here?"  she  said,  resenting  a 
feeling  of  self-consciousness. 

"Pretty  good,  isn't  it?  Malcolm  and  a  whole 
crowd  of  us  bathed  here  last  year.  Very  queer.  I 
remember  he  told  me  about  you  that  morning, —  how 
well  you  swim,  or  something,  and  by  Jove,  you  do 
swim  well, —  as  well  as  you  do  everything  else."  He 
was  not  paying  compliments.  There  was  not  the  faint- 
est suggestion  of  flirtation  in  his  eyes.  He  made  the 
statement  of  an  accepted  fact,  and  went  on  boyishly. 
"  Do  you  wonder  that  I  keep  away  from  towns  ?  Just 
look  at  it  here.  No  umbrellas  stuck  about.  No  crowd 
of  giggling  women  and  cocktail  hunters.  No  strings 
of  stinking  cars  lined  up  to  carry  off  soft  people. 
Here's  simplicity  and  truth.  Will  you  ever  get  to  like 
it,  youngster?" 

He  was  disappointing  her.  She  wouldn't  for  the 
world  have  had  him  less  charming  than  he  was,  or  say 
the  things  that  some  men  had  said  to  her  after  bathing, 
—  personal,  fulsome  things,  caddish  things.  But, — 
she  must  look  nice,  she  felt  nice,  and  surely  there  might 
have  been  just  a  little  admiration  in  his  eyes.  Anyone 
would  think  that  they  had  been  boy  and  girl  together. 
He  accepted  it  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  before  she  could  stop  herself,  "  with 
you." 

He  laughed  softly  and  gratefully,  leaned  forward 
and  kissed  her  foot,  then  sprang  up  and  bent  over  her, 
put  one  arm  round  her  shoulders  and  one  under  her 
knees,  quietly  gathered  her  up  shoulder-high.  "  Come 
on,"  he  said,  "  it's  time  to  dress  and  eat,"  and  he  car- 


SCANDAL  287 

ried  her  to  where  her  clothes  were  lying,  with  his  cheek 
against  her  breast. 

When  he  put  her  down  and  saw  her  face,  something 
went  crack.  Good  God !  They  were  not,  then,  in  that 
dream  of  his,  married,  hand  in  hand,  with  a  baby  boy 
growing  in  the  sun ! 

He  bolted  like  a  mountain  goat. 


XXXIII 

THE  sight  of  him  after  he  had  put  her  down,  scared, 
with  his  hands  out  as  though  they  had  been  burned, 
and  the  complete  acknowledgment  of  the  ineptitude 
of  apology  that  he  gave  by  bolting,  made  Beatrix  laugh. 
It  caught  her  sense  of  comedy  and  left  a  picture  on 
her  mind  to  which  she  would  always  be  able  to  turn 
to  dispel  depression.  All  the  same  her  heart  was 
thumping  and  her  cheeks  were  hot.  She  exulted  in 
the  fact,  now  proved  beyond  argument,  that  she  drew 
him,  that  he  was  all  alive  to  her  attraction.  She 
thrilled  again  as  she  thought  of  how  he  had  kissed  her 
foot  and  the  way  in  which  he  had  carried  her  across 
the  beach. 

She  found  herself  trying  to  find  the  right  word  to 
describe  his  strength  and  cleanness  and  physical 
beauty,  the  odd  boyishness  of  him,  the  passion  that  was 
without  animalism, —  and  failed.  She  got  as  far  as 
to  wish  that  she  had  run  her  fingers  through  his  hair 
as  she  felt  a  strong  desire  to  do, —  and  then  began  to 
dress  quickly,  drawing  back,  with  an  odd  touch  of 
puritanism,  from  that  kind  of  thought. 

"  I  would  like  to  come  here  every  fine  day,"  she  said, 
looking  about,  pretending  that  it  was  the  view  that 
appealed  to  her,  and  the  color  and  the  gentle  break  of 
the  sea.  "  And  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  hunter  now,"  and 
she  knew  that  she  was  hurrying  to  see  him  again. 


SCANDAL  289 

When  she  was  dressed  and  had  packed  the  bathing 
things  into  the  bag  she  stood  still  for  a  little  while 
under  the  shadow  of  the  rocks,  with  dry  seaweed  all 
round  her  in  a  vague  pattern.  Privately  and  in  a  sort 
of  way  in  secret  from  herself,  she  tapped  at  her  heart 
and  went  in,  afraid  to  take  more  than  one  quick  look 
around.  It  was  all  untidy  and  chaotic.  Someone  had 
stamped  about  in  that  hitherto  perfectly  neat  and  undis- 
turbed place.  It  was  unrecognizable.  .  .  .  She  ran 
away  from  it.  What  did  it  mean?  Why  did  she 
begin  to  feel  that  she  was  not  the  old  Beatrix,  not 
quite  so  high-chinned  and  self -composed,  not  quite  with 
the  same  grip  on  the  reins,  softer,  simpler,  with  a  queer 
new  feeling  of  homesickness  for  a  home  that  she  didn't 
know? 

"  Now,  now,  my  good  girl,"  she  said,  "  string  up, 
pull  yourself  together.  No  sloppiness,  please."  But 
she  went  eagerly  back  over  the  uneven  rocks  and  some- 
thing was  making  her  heart  more  untidy  than  ever. 

She  found  the  food  laid  out  on  a  flat  place  and 
Franklin  in  the  launch  doing  something  to  the  engine. 
She  whistled  and  he  looked  up.  "  I'm  awfully  hun- 
gry," she  said. 

"  Right.  I'll  come.  This  engine's  a  bit  groggy 
somewhere.  I  thought  so  as  we  ran  in.  Careless 
blighter,  Jones."  He  washed  his  hands  in  the  sea  and 
came  up,  putting  on  his  coat.  "  I  hate  messing  about 
with  machinery.  I  know  next  to  nothing  about  it  and 
if  I  can't  get  it  right  at  once  I  have  an  unholy  desire  to 
smash.  I've  no  patience  with  things  I  don't  under- 
stand." 


290  SCANDAL 

"  That's  why  you're  so  impatient  with  me  some- 
times," she  said  to  herself, —  enormously  surprised  that 
she  didn't  say  it  aloud.  Obviously  something  was  hap- 
pening to  her.  She  liked  the  way  in  which  he  had  set 
out  the  lunch  and  put  the  cushion  so  that  the  sun 
wouldn't  fall  on  her  face.  It  was  competent, —  and 
she  admired  that.  He  was  taller  than  he  had  seemed 
to  be  on  board  and  his  grey  eyes  had  a  most  intriguing 
way  of  going  black. 

Franklin  hid  behind  an  abrupt  and  hard- forced 
casualness,  very  conscious  of  having  made  a  complete 
idiot  of  himself.  He  told  her  everything  that  there 
was  to  eat,  knowing  very  well  that  her  quick  eyes  had 
at  once  made  an  inventory,  and  looked  after  her  with  a 
rapid  politeness.  He  immediately  entered  into  a  long, 
detailed  account  of  a  most  uninteresting  hunting  trip  in 
Central  Africa  and  watched  her  like  a  hawk  to  pounce 
if  she  made  any  reference  to  bathing  or  beaches.  Also 
he  talked  her  down  when  she  made  one  or  two  tenta- 
tive efforts  to  lead  the  conversation  to  something  hu- 
man and  wilfully  became  more  technical  and  dry  and 
endless. 

Finally,  having  strained  every  nerve  to  stand  it  for 
his  sake,  she  gave  a  little  scream,  and  he  stopped.  But 
before  he  could  ask  what  was  the  matter  she  said: 
"  Nothing's  bitten  me  and  I  haven't  seen  smugglers. 
I'm  simply  fed  up  with  red  monkies  and  Croo-boys 
and  the  whole  of  Central  Africa.  Tell  me  just  one 
thing.  How  do  you  feel  after  eating  four  hard- 
boiled  eggs  running?  " 

He  chuckled.     "  Hungry,"  he  said,  and  got  off  his 


SCANDAL  291 

sweating  horse.  She  was  not  going  to  hold  him  up 
to  ridicule,  and  he  was  grateful. 

They  sat  for  a  long  time  over  lunch, —  Franklin 
with  his  back  to  a  rock  and  a  well-worn  pipe  going; 
Beatrix  leaning  back  on  her  hands  with  her  hat  off 
and  the  light  on  her  hair.  Suddenly  Franklin  sprang 
up.  "  Fog  coming  over,"  he  said  sharply.  He  stood 
over  her  and  held  out  his  hand. 

She  took  it  and  he  jerked  her  to  her  feet.  She 
looked  out  and  saw  the  Galatea  a  long  way  off,  dis- 
appearing behind  what  seemed  to  be  a  solid  wall  of 
grey  smoke.  "  Does  it  matter?  " 

"  Yes.  We'll  leave  these  things.  Nip  into  the 
launch  quick  and  I'll  make  a  dash  for  the  yacht."  He 
gave  her  arm  an  impatient  tap  and  she  caught  up  her 
hat  and  got  in.  Hauling  out  the  pin  he  threw  it 
aboard,  jumped  into  the  stern,  started  the  engine  and 
backed  out,  turning  with  a  swing  when  he  was  clear. 
The  sea  was  at  the  stand,  due  to  go  out.  Already  the 
cowlike  call  of  fog  signals  had  begun  far  off.  But 
he  had  taken  his  line  for  the  yacht  and  went  for  her. 
"  With  ordinary  luck  we  shall  make  her,"  he  said. 
"  I  wish  you'd  brought  your  coat." 

The  fog  rolled  over  them.  Minutes  before  it  had 
put  out  the  sun.  "  What  fun ! "  laughed  Beatrix. 
"  It  will  make  my  hair  curl." 

"  It'll  make  mine  like  astrakhan,"  he  said,  "  if  this 
cursed  engine  begins  any  tricks.  It's  missing  fire  now, 
damn  the  thing !  " 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  said  Beatrix  airily,  "  if  you 
really  feel  the  need  to  swear," 


292  SCANDAL 

"  I  shan't." 

She  looked  all  around.  There  was  nothing  to  see 
except  a  monotony  of  greyness.  They  were  pushing 
through  a  thick,  damp,  mysterious  series  of  closely 
hung  veils  that  dragged  softly  across  her  face.  It 
wasn't  pleasant  or  funny.  It  was, —  but  with  Frank- 
lin at  her  elbow  it  was  disloyal  even  to  let  the  word 
take  shape  in  her  mind.  If  only  she  had  brought  her 
coat,  her  thickest  coat.  She  had  hardly  anything  on. 
How  melancholy  those  sea-voices  were.  She  hated 
eerie  sounds.  She  saw  Franklin  bend  suddenly  over 
the  engine  and  pry  and  touch  and  say  things  under 
his  breath.  Every  now  and  then  the  thing  had  furious 
palpitation.  Then  it  seemed  to  her  to  be  quarrelling 
together  and  throwing  its  parts  about.  It  kicked  and 
wheezed  and  struggled  like  a  held  rooster, —  and 
stopped.  She  began  to  shiver.  A  dozen  distant  cows 
seemed  to  be  calling  anxiously  for  their  young.  She 
could  hardly  see  the  peak  of  the  launch.  She  wasn't 
frightened.  Only  just  a  little  anxious,  or  rather  un- 
comfortable. She  loved  new  things  but  this  was,  un- 
doubtedly and  without  argument,  too  new. 

"Hell!"  said  Franklin. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  replied.  "  You've  said  it  for 
me." 

He  peered  into  her  face.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  what's 
happened  or  not?  I  mean  do  you  want  to  face  things 
or  be  coddled?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  beginning  to  know  me,"  she 
said. 

"  Right.     Now   listen.     This    dirty   little   engine's 


SCANDAL  293 

playing  the  fool.  I've  done  everything  I  know  to  it, 
even  to  whispering  endearing  terms.  But  in  one 
word,  it  beats  me." 

She  nodded  brightly,  rubbing  her  thinly-clad  knees 
together  and  putting  her  hands  under  her  arms.  "  I 
see,"  she  said.  "Well?" 

"  That  means  that  we're  completely  at  the  mercy  of 
this  rotten  fog,  and  presently  we  shall  drift  out,  maybe 
into  trade  lines.  Hear  the  bellows  of  the  freighters? 
We  may  be  out  all  night  with  nothing  to  eat  and  drink 
and  the  risk  of  being  run  down." 

Her  attempt  at  pluck  was  heroic.  "  There  aren't 
any  nice,  soft,  cozy  Jaeger  dressing  gowns  in  the 
locker,  by  any  chance?  " 

"  The  Vanderdykes  are  all  right,"  said  Franklin, 
with  queer  enthusiasm.  He  pulled  off  his  flannel  coat. 
"  Put  this  on." 

"  No,  no." 

"  Put  this  on." 

"  I  won't  put  it  on." 

He  wasted  no  further  words.  He  took  first  one 
soft  damp  arm  and  then  the  other,  drew  the  sleeves 
over  them,  bent  down  and  buttoned  the  coat  up. 

"  Oh,  that's  lovely,"  she  said ;  "  as  warm  as  a  ra- 
diator. But  what  about  you  ?  " 

"  That's  all  right.  Listen  again.  When  McLeod 
finds  that  we  don't  get  back  he'll  probably  send  off  the 
big  launch  to  hunt  us  up.  The  only  way  I  can  give 
them  a  line  is  to  keep  shouting.  Very  likely,  giving 
me  credit  for  being  less  a  confounded  fool  than  I  am, 
he'll  imagine  two  things, —  either  that  I  got  off  before 


294  SCANDAL 

the  fog  lowered  and  am  able  to  fake  the  engine  if 
anything  happens  to  it,  or  that,  seeing  the  fog  coming 
over,  I  decided  to  stay  on  the  island,  in  which  case  it 
would  be  possible  for  him  to  feel  his  way  to  land  and 
pick  us  off.  As  it  is,  there's  no  compass  aboard  and 
I've  no  means  of  telling  which  way  we're  drifting,  and 
if  the  fog  lasts  all  night, —  puzzle,  find  the  yacht. 
There  you  have  the  worst  and  the  best  of  it.  Listen !  " 

"What  is  it?" 

He  put  his  hands  up  to  his  mouth  and  raised  a  tre- 
mendous shout.  "  Ahoy, —  Galatea,  ahoy,  ahoy !  " 

There  was  no  answer.  The  sound  seemed  to  fall 
dead,  as  though  up  against  a  wall. 

"  Urn,"  he  said,  and  stood  amidships  with  his  legs 
wide  apart  and  with  the  utmost  precision,  with  regu- 
lar pauses,  turning  his  head  to  right  and  left,  sent  out 
long,  steady  calls.  Some  power-boat,  feeling  her  way 
in  from  fishing,  might  come  within  hail  and  give  them 
a  tow,  or  the  big  launch  might  be  poking  about  for 
them  and  pick  up  his  voice.  Good  God,  to  think  that 
he  had  lived  to  be  a  man  without  being  able  to  master 
a  damn  fool  engine!  That  was  one  of  the  worst 
points  of  being  able  to  buy  service.  It  plucked  initia- 
tive out  of  the  brain  like  the  bones  out  of  fish.  "  Gala- 
tea, .  .  .  Galatea.  .  .  .  Ahoy." 

How  extraordinary  it  was,  she  thought,  sitting  all 
together,  as  close  as  she  could  get  to  herself.  They 
were  like  two  children  lost  in  the  woods, —  two  peo- 
ple, both  of  whom  had  been  able  to  buy  the  earth, 
played  a  trick  upon  and  shown  that  the  earth  was  no 
more  theirs  than  any  other  man's, — -two  people  cut 


SCANDAL  295 

off,  brought  all  the  way  down  the  great  ladder  with 
a  run,  to  the  desire  for  charity, —  two  people,  young 
and  wilful  and  proud  and  vain,  who  had  come  to- 
gether by  a  lie,  been  kept  together  by  a  condition  of 
nature  against  which  they,  for  all  their  money,  and 
youth  and  supreme  confidence,  were  utterly  impotent, 
—  two  people  mutually  aware  of  being  man  and 
woman  drifting  together  in  a  new  life  to  death,  per- 
haps. .  .  . 

"  Galatea,  Galatea,  ahoy." 

She  gave  a  little  cry  of  wonder  and  fright. 

In  an  instant  lie  was  bending  over  her.  "  What 
can  I  do?" 

"  Nothing  else,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at  him. 

"  You're  shivering." 

"  Oh,  no.     I'm  only  —  cool.     That's  all." 

He  flung  open  the  locker.  There  was  nothing  in  it 
but  his  bathing  suit.  He  had  left  a  big,  thick  towel 
on  the  rocks  to  dry.  He  seemed  to  have  left  every- 
thing on  the  rocks, —  including  his  wits.  There  was 
nothing  to  put  round  her. 

"  Galatea, —  Galatea,  ahoy." 

He  was  an  hour  making  up  his  mind  what  to  do. 
During  that  time,  listening  hard  for  any  near  signal 
or  answering  call,  he  shouted  and  kept  up  a  jerky  con- 
versation, talking  to  Beatrix  as  though  she  were  a 
child,  trying  to  make  her  laugh  with  futile  jokes  that 
he  would  have  sworn  he  couldn't  have  remembered. 
Like  a  Trojan  she  played  up  and  duly  laughed  with 
chattering  teeth  and  many  times  whipped  in  quickly 
with  an  "Ahoy"  herself  to  help  him  out. 


296  SCANDAL 

Suddenly  she  began  to  whimper.  She  couldn't  help 
it.  She  was  so  cold  and  so  frightened  and  to  her 
it  seemed  as  though  this  were  the  end  of  every- 
thing. 

And  that  decided  him.  He  picked  her  up  and  sat 
down,  put  her  in  his  lap,  wound  his  arms  round  her 
and  put  his  cheek  against  her  cheek.  This  girl-child 
must  have  all  his  warmth.  He  was  responsible  for 
this  inefficient  business.  The  fool  engine  had  beat 
him.  .  .  .  She  was  no  longer  in  his  blood.  She  was 
a  beautiful  human  thing  who  must  be  kept  from  cry- 
ing, kept  warm,  kept  alive.  The  sex  in  him  was  ut- 
terly dormant.  The  desire  to  preserve  had  conquered 
it.  He  was  a  worried,  anxious  man  with  a  delicate 
lovely  thing  on  his  hands  and  it  was  his  fault,  curse 
him,  that  she  was  whimpering  and  chilled  and  hor- 
ribly uncomfortable  and  up  against  death  perhaps. 
At  any  moment  they  might  be  run  down, —  at  a  loose 
end,  out  there  among  the  veils.  And  he  held  all  her 
softness  tight  to  him  and  presently  began  to  rub  her,— 
shoulders  and  arms  and  legs,  to  make  her  blood  circu- 
late, to  stop  her  from  whimpering,  saying  the  sort 
of  things  that  men  always  say  to  children  who  have 
hurt  themselves,  silly,  little,  queer  things,  over  and 
over  again. 

It  was  wonderful.  ...  He  was  so  strong  and  fine, 
and  she  cuddled  up  to  his  big  chest  and  put  her  arms 
about  him  and  gave  herself  up,  wholly,  without  a 
qualm.  With  the  same  regularity  he  threw  up  his 
head  and  shouted  and  she  heard  the  rumble  of  his 
voice,  and  for  a  long  time  he  held  her  and  rubbed, 


SCANDAL  297 

never  letting  her  blood  stop,  only  cutting  into  his 
murmur  of  comfort  by  shouting : 

"  Galatea, —  Galatea,  ahoy." 

The  boat  was  drifting.  The  water  gave  it  no  more 
than  a  gentle  rock.  She  shut  her  eyes  and  smiled. 
She  had  retained  the  mind  of  a  woman  with  the  body 
of  a  child.  It  was  brilliantly  clear  to  her  that  out 
there,  then,  in  that  drifting  boat,  all  among  those 
closely  hung  veils  of  damp  web,  the  spirit  of  this  man 
was  alight,  and  that  in  his  hands,  that  had  been  so  hot 
and  eager  to  touch,  there  was  now  the  supreme  tender- 
ness that  is  without  passion.  It  was  wonderful.  It 
was  not  happening.  This  was  not  earth.  He,  such 
a  man,  who  had  kissed  her  foot  and  put  his  cheek 
against  her  breast,  and  she,  who  had  exulted  in  her 
power  to  stir  and  draw  on.  It  must  be  Heaven. 
Their  clashes  and  outbursts  were  over.  They  had 
died  together  and  met  again  in  spirit.  She  had  never 
dreamed  of  anything  like  this. 

"  Galatea, —  Galatea,  ahoy,"  yelled  Franklin.  It 
was  the  pit-pit  of  an  engine  that  came  to  his  tired 
brain. 

"  Ahoy  to  you." 

It  was  not  Heaven.  It  was  earth  and  they  were 
alive  and  that  was  Jones's  voice.  She  cuddled  closer 
and  her  heart  began  to  thump.  She  didn't  want  to 
be  taken  away. 

"At  last,"  said  Franklin.  "Steady,  Jones,"  he 
called  out.  "  We're  drifting.  Slide  up  alongside  and 
take  us  on.  We're  cold.  .  .  .  Well  played,  little  girl," 
and  he  kissed  her  on  the  mouth. 


298  SCANDAL 

That  night  he  insisted  upon  her  having  dinner  in 
bed.  Ah,  how  good  that  steaming,  hot  bath  had  been. 

Afterwards,  strained  and  very,  very  tired,  she  fell 
asleep  at  once,  and  went  back  to  the  little  beach  with 
its  vague  patterns  of  sea-weed  on  yellow  sand,  and 
they  swam  again  and  dried  in  the  sun,  and  talked  and 
laughed,  and  he  lay  at  her  feet,  brown  and  clean-cut, 
with  burning  eyes, —  but  when  he  picked  her  up  this 
time  and  carried  her  to  the  cave  she  held  him  tight 
and  found  his  lips  and  lay  with  him  on  the  warm 
sand.  .  .  . 

It  must  have  been  midnight  when  she  woke  suddenly 
and  put  her  hand  out  to  touch  his  face. 

It  was  not  true.  She  was  alone, —  and  she  loved 
him  so ! 


XXXIV 

IT  was  exactly  half-past  nine  the  following  morn- 
ing when  Jones  rapped  at  the  door  of  the  Captain's 
stateroom.  The  dancing  sailor  registered  the  note  of 
irritation  in  the  shout  of  "  Come  "  with  a  comic  griev- 
ance and  went  in  to  find  McLeod  struggling  to  remove 
a  recalcitrant  beard  with  a  very  disagreeable  razor. 
There  was,  God  knows,  every  reason  for  a  touch  of 
temper  mixed  with  that  sort  of  amazement  that  a  man 
feels  when  an  old  and  true  friend  goes  back  on  him. 
Shaving  at  the  best  of  times  is  a  penance,  at  the  worst 
a  catastrophe.  The  Captain  was  a  clean-shaven  man 
in  the  middle  forties  and  although,  as  one  of  the  Esau 
tribe,  he  had  used  a  razor  since  he  was  eighteen,  he 
had  failed  to  understand  the  peculiar  psychology  of 
steel  and  to  appreciate  the  fact  that  the  blade  of  a 
razor  is  just  as  temperamental  and  just  as  much  af- 
fected by  the  vagaries  of  liver  as  the  average  human 
being.  He  made  no  allowances. 

"What  is  it,  Jones?" 

"  Sorry  ter  disturb  you,  sir,  but  there's  a  launch 
co'min'  up  on  the  port  side  with  Mr.  Fraser  aboard. 
Thought  you'd  like  ter  know,  sir." 

"  Have  you  told  Mr.  Franklin?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Considered  it  my  duty  ter  report  it  ter 
you,  sir." 


300  SCANDAL 

"  Well,  nip  round  to  Mr.  Franklin  and  tell  him, 
will  you?  I  don't  see  what  M.  F.  wants  to  trail  us 
for  unless  it's  something  important." 

And  so  Jones  nipped,  little  knowing  that  Malcolm's 
unexpected  visit  was  to  bring  about  a  new  crisis  in  the 
lives  of  Franklin  and  Beatrix. 

Only  just  dressed,  Franklin  followed  Jones  out  in 
time  to  see  Malcolm  come  aboard.  "  Why,  hello,  my 
dear  fellow,"  he  called  out  with  immense  cordiality, 
"  you're  just  in  time  for  breakfast."  It  seemed  an 
age  since  he  had  seen  his  friend. 

The  sky  was  clear  again,  the  sun  warm  and  gracious, 
the  sea  just  lively  enough  to  make  the  yacht  dance. 
The  fog  which  had  come  from  nowhere  for  no  reason 
had  gone  back  in  the  same  mood.  Franklin  had  slept 
in  one  solid,  dreamless  piece.  All  was  well  with  the 
world. 

There  was  a  whimsical  smile  on  Malcolm's  cherubic 
face.  "  I  wasn't  quite  sure  that  I  should  be  wel- 
come," he  said,  dying  to  know  how  things  were  going. 
"  The  word  breakfast  never  sounded  so  well  to  me. 
I'm  ravenous.  Where's  Beatrix?" 

"  Not  up  yet.  Come  to  the  dining  saloon."  He 
took  Malcolm's  arm  and  led  him  off,  delighted  to  see 
him. 

"  Just  a  second,"  said  Malcolm.  "  I  think  you'd 
better  tell  McLeod  to  turn  the  yacht  about  at  once. 
It'll  save  time." 

Franklin  drew  up.  "  Turn  the  yacht  about  ? 
Why?" 

"  I  have  a  good  reason  for  breaking  in  on  your  tri- 


SCANDAL  301 

umphant  isolation,"  said  Malcolm,  "  little  as  you  ap- 
pear to  suspect  it,  and  if  you " 

He  stopped  speaking.  Beatrix  was  coming  towards 
them.  His  heart  turned  at  the  sight  of  her.  Never 
in  his  life  had  he  seen  her  looking  so  radiant  and 
lovely  and  like  a  rose  with  all  its  sweetest  leaves  still 
folded,  and  in  her  expression  there  was  something  so 
new  in  its  sunny  peace  fulness  that  he  caught  his  breath 
with  surprise. 

"  Malcolm,"  she  cried  out,  and  put  her  hands  on  his 
shoulders  and  kissed  him  like  a  sister.  He  had  ex- 
pected to  see  a  caged  bird  beating  her  wings  and  to  be 
rushed  at  as  one  who  brought  a  reprieve.  His  curi- 
osity nearly  forced  him  into  personalities. 

"  How  nice  of  you  to  look  us  up,"  she  said,  taking 
his  other  arm.  "  You're  just  in  time  for  breakfast." 

The  word  breakfast  used  by  them  both  struck  the 
most  intimate  note.  It  is  the  most  domestic  of  all 
words.  The  first  stab  of  jealousy  that  Malcolm  had 
ever  felt  made  him,  before  he  could  master  himself, 
break  their  astounding  atmosphere  of  contentment, 
this  elysium  of  peace. 

"  Mrs.  Keene  is  very  ill,"  he  said,  sharply.  "  Ida 
Larpent  and  I  have  done  what  we  could  for  two  days 
but  she's  crying  continually  for  you.  I  drove  along 
the  coast  as  fast  as  I  could  and  unless  you  come  back 
with  me  I  don't  know  what  may  happen." 

Beatrix  turned  and  looked  at  Franklin.  He  read 
in  her  eyes  an  appeal  to  put  her  quickly  at  the  side 
of  the  little  lady  whose  devotion  was  dog-like.  He 
was  wrong.  The  look  she  gave  him  was  full  of  an- 


302  SCANDAL 

guish  at  the  thought  of  leaving  him  and  the  sort  of 
half -hope  that  he  would  play  the  tyrant  and  the  bully 
and  refuse  to  let  her  go. 

"  Jones,"  he  sang  out. 

"Sir?" 

"  Ask  Captain  McLeod  to  see  me  at  once." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

"  Malcolm,  take  Beatrix  into  the  dining  saloon. 
I'll  join  you  in  about  five  minutes." 

And  as  Beatrix  went  on  with  Malcolm,  all  her  appe- 
tite for  breakfast  gone,  she  said  to  herself  with  the 
inevitable  unreasonableness  of  a  woman  in  love,  "  He 
doesn't  care,  he  doesn't  care.  Any  pretty  girl  would 
do  as  well.  He's  glad  to  let  me  go." 

Franklin  met  McLeod.  "  Mrs.  Franklin  must  go 
ashore  as  soon  as  you  can  get  her  there.  Mrs.  Lester 
Keene  is  very  ill.  Mr.  Fraser  has  a  car  waiting  and 
he  will  drive  my  wife  back  to  where  we  landed  the 
party  the  other  day, —  Jones  in  charge.  I  can't  be 
trusted  with  an  engine  now,  y'know.  I  shall  drive 
with  them  and  come  aboard  again  when  you  turn  up, 
which  you  will  do  with  best  possible  speed.  Get 
that?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Right."  He  waved  his  hand  and  went  below  to 
his  own  sanctum.  [His  valet  was  busy  in  the  bed- 
room. "  Moffat,  pack  things  for  me  for  a  couple  of 
days,  and  tell  the  stewardess  to  do  the  same  for  Mrs. 
Franklin.  Sharp's  the  word.  We're  leaving  the 
yacht  in  half-an-hour." 

Then  he  went  to  breakfast,  having  set  things  on  the 


SCANDAL  303 

move  in  his  characteristic  way.  Beatrix  and  Malcolm 
were  talking  generalities  in  a  rather  strained  manner. 
The  thoughts  of  both  were  busy.  It  was  very  obvious 
to  Malcolm  that  something  had  happened  to  Beatrix. 
Her  whole  attitude,  as  well  as  her  expression,  had 
changed.  She  even  seemed  to  be  dressed  differently 
in  some  subtle  way.  She  was,  too,  he  thought,  less 
young,  less  confident,  less  on  the  defensive,  less  con- 
sistently brilliant,  less  all-in-the-shop-window, —  more 
like  the  little  girl  who  had  tucked  herself  into  his 
heart. 

"  What  happened  ?  "  asked  Franklin,  doing  more 
than  justice  to  a  liberal  helping  of  scrambled  eggs  a 
Ludovic. 

He'd  never  be  able  to  eat  so  well  if  he  cared,  thought 
Beatrix. 

Malcolm's  eyes  were  clear  again.  He  was  less  than 
the  dust  to  the  heroine  of  his  boyhood  and  he  had 
prayed  that  she  might  be  won  by  Pel.  After  all,  he 
was  a  poet. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  that  kind,  good  soul  began  by 
having  hysterics  on  the  quay.  She  was  the  first  to 
realize,  presumably  because  of  a  long  course  of  novel 
reading,  that  we  had  been  emptied  away  like  rubbish 
and  that  the  Galatea  had  turned  seawards  with  Bea- 
trix." 

Franklin  nodded  and  drank  deeply  of  strong  coffee. 

Beatrix  respected  him  for  drinking  strong,  black 
stuff  with  breakfast,  but  she  would  have  given  days  of 
her  life  to  have  had  just  one  smile  from  him  then. 

"  I  knew  the  one-eyed  place  on  which  we  had  been 


304  SCANDAL 

dumped,  took  charge  of  the  three  women  —  saving 
Mrs.  Keene  from  a  watery  grave  —  and  drove  to  the 
one  possible  inn.  Quite  by  accident  I  had  some  money 
on  me.  Helene  and  I  did  what  we  could  to  soothe 
Mrs.  Keene  but  she  took  to  bed  and  sprang  a  high 
temperature.  The  local  doctor  attended  her  and  called 
it  a  nervous  breakdown  and  that's  what,  being  in  the 
confidence  of  you  both,  I  believe  it  is.  Mrs.  Larpent 
surprised  me  by  being  very  kind  and  sympathetic, 
which  shows  how  foolish  it  is  to  judge  a  woman  by 
her  jewelry  and  the  way  she  does  her  hair.  We  have 
had  a  very  worrying  time.  Finally  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  hire  a  car  and  drive  along  the  coast  until  I 
came  level  with  you.  I  started  before  daybreak  and 
here  I  am.  Mrs.  Keene  never  ceases  to  call  for  Bea- 
trix and  I  promised  to  bring  her  back.  You  will  both 
help  me  to  keep  my  promise,  I  know." 

"  Well,  of  course,"  said  Franklin. 

"  Well,  of  course,"  echoed  Beatrix.  Conceive  it. 
Beatrix, —  an  echo!  Love  plays  strange  tricks  upon 
humanity. 

Franklin  went  on  eating.  "  We  leave  on  the  big 
launch  in  twenty  minutes.  WTe  shall  drive  back  in 
your  car  and  stay  at  the  inn  until  the  Galatea  anchors 
off  the  quay." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Malcolm.  "  The  sight  of  Bea- 
trix will  do  Mrs.  Keene  more  good  than  buckets  of 
medicine." 

Beatrix  turned  to  Franklin.  "  Does  '  we  '  include 
you  ?  "  she  asked,  with  what  Malcolm  thought  was  a 
most  curious  and  startling  note  of  humbleness. 


SCANDAL  305 

"  Rather,"  said  Franklin. 
Whereupon  Beatrix  began  to  eat. 
Sitting  in  the  shade  of  the  veranda  of  the  inn  Ida 
Larpent  killed  time  with  a  new  sense  of  hope. 


XXXV 

IT  was  nearly  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  when  the 
dust-covered  car  arrived  at  Malcolm's  one-eyed  place 
some  miles  from  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  It  was 
a  long,  tedious,  hot  drive  through  country  which  Bea- 
trix called  untidily  picturesque.  The  telegraph  posts 
along  the  roads  leaned  at  rakish  angles.  Everywhere 
there  were  cotton  fields  with  irregular  lines  of  plants 
from  which  the  blossoms  had  fallen,  dilapidated  shacks 
with  piccaninnies  playing  about  them  and  uncorseted 
colored  women  squatting  on  the  stoops.  Strange 
washing  hung  out  to  dry  with  great  frequency  and 
every  now  and  then  there  was  a  fine  Colonial  house 
with  a  garden  alight  with  flowers. 

The  inn,  or  hotel,  as  it  insisted  on  being  called,  was 
the  only  building  in  the  settlement  which  seemed  to 
have  received  a  coat  of  white  paint  for  many  moons 
and  it  was  obviously  the  centre  of  attraction.  Three 
rather  carelessly  treated  Fords  were  parked  near  its 
main  entrance  and  two  drummers  were  rocking  on 
the  unwashed  stoop  with  soft  damp  cigars  tucked  into 
the  corners  of  their  mouths.  Little  families  of  chick- 
ens ran  after  their  conscientious  mothers  around  the 
building  and  several  turkeys  stalked  aimlessly  here 
and  there  like  actors  out  for  a  walk.  Numerous  out- 
houses leaned  against  each  other  for  support, —  one 
or  two  of  them  showing  an  ingenuity  in  repair  that 


SCANDAL  307 

was  almost  Irish.  On  the  walls  of  several  were  pasted 
glaring  bills  of  motion  picture  plays  then  being  shown 
in  Charleston,  and  one  was  entirely  given  up  to  the 
glorification  in  large  letters  of  a  certain  small  pill. 
There  was,  indeed,  a  curious  intimacy,  a  sort  of  who- 
cares-a-whoop  air  about  the  whole  place.  You  could 
tease  the  turkeys,  scatter  the  chickens,  grin  at  the 
Fords  and  spit  with  the  drummers.  It  was  Carolina 
and  hot  and  the  cotton  was  coming  on.  What  the 
deuce,  anyway! 

From  the  beginning  of  the  journey  to  the  end  of  it 
Franklin  hardly  opened  his  mouth.  Watched  surrep- 
titiously by  Beatrix,  he  sat  silent  and  peculiarly  distrait, 
like  a  man  who  was  either  working  out  an  engrossing 
problem  or  bored  to  extinction.  After  several  dogged 
attempts  to  get  him  to  talk,  Malcolm  gave  him  up  and 
for  some  miles  devoted  himself  entirely  to  Beatrix. 
To  her  he  told  everything  funny  that  he  had  ever 
heard  or  invented  without  winning  a  smile.  She  too 
was  as  far  away  and  as  unresponsive  as  Franklin. 
And  so,  giving  them  both  up,  Malcolm  joined  the 
sphinxes  and  let  his  imagination  run  loose.  When 
this  unsociable  party  halted  for  lunch  at  a  wayside  inn 
the  conspiracy  of  silence  was  broken,  but  only  as  it 
would  have  been  by  three  people  who  were  total 
strangers  thrown  together  briefly.  The  few  necessary 
commonplaces  were  said.  Franklin  and  Beatrix  went 
on  thinking  and  Malcolm  continued  to  imagine  what 
they  were  thinking  about.  The  driver  of  the  hired 
car,  a  middle-aged  man  who  had  married  an  argu- 
mentative woman  in  his  youth,  gave  a  great  deal  of 


308  SCANDAL 

slow  consideration  to  the  matter.  His  sense  of  beauty 
pulled  his  sympathy  towards  Beatrix,  but  his  sense  of 
brotherhood  impelled  him  to  stand  by  Franklin  in 
what  he  decided  must  be  a  matrimonial  bust-up,  and 
so  he  remained  neutral  as  far  as  they  were  concerned 
and  concentrated  pity  upon  Malcolm,  to  whom,  luckily, 
sleep  eventually  came. 

Franklin  was  suffering  from  inevitable  reaction. 
He  had  returned  to  earth  from  a  dream.  He  had 
come  back  to  a  very  practical  world  from  the  land  of 
make-believe.  He  had  fallen  from  the  unnatural 
height  of  a  sublime,  passionless  love  to  the  natural  level 
of  a  man  whose  passion  pounded  on  the  walls  of  his 
heart  and  ran  like  electricity  through  his  veins.  Out 
of  the  brief  mist  which  had  shut  out  the  truth  of 
things  he  stared  to  find  that  Beatrix  was  as  far  away 
from  him  as  ever.  He  was  in  the  pit  of  depression, 
especially  as  he  had  a  feeling  that  any  chance  he  might 
have  had  to  win  Beatrix  was  gone  now  that  she  had 
left  the  yacht.  It  seemed  to  him  that  she  had  es- 
caped. 

As  for  Beatrix,  who  had  felt  the  beat  of  Franklin's 
heart  against  her  breast  and  would  smilingly  have 
gone  beyond  the  outpost  of  eternity  in  his  arms,  re- 
action came  with  a  shock  that  left  her  with  no  other 
desire  than  to  cry.  Suddenly  to  have  found  herself 
and  the  meaning  of  life;  suddenly,  out  there  in  the 
fog,  to  have  seen  the  sense  and  sanity  of  things  and 
burgeoned  into  a  woman  under  the  warmth  of  love 
and  dreamed  all  night  of  its  fulfilment  and  then  to 
waken  to  this, —  a  man  who  neither  looked  at  her  nor 


SCANDAL  309 

spoke,  who  hustled  her  from  the  yacht  and  would 
probably  leave  her  with  her  friends  and  go  his  way. 
If  he  had  loved  her  as  well  as  been  stirred  by  the  at- 
traction of  her  sex  he  must  have  told  her  so  that 
morning.  This  was  the  end  of  all  her  arguments. 
Having  her  at  his  mercy  he  let  her  go,  she  told  herself 
bitterly.  Probably  he  had  escorted  her  to  shore  to 
renew  his  flirtation  with  Ida  Larpent.  Ah!  That 
was  it.  Malcolm  had  said  that  she  had  remained  at 
the  hotel.  She  wouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  the  Lar- 
pent woman  had  bribed  Malcolm  to  come  to  the  yacht 
with  his  tale  of  woe  .  .  .  and  when,  as  the  car  drew 
up,  Ida  Larpent  sauntered  out  wearing  one  of  her 
most  enigmatical  smiles  and  a  very  becoming  frock 
the  hitherto  unknown  demon  of  jealousy  seized  Bea- 
trix in  his  burning  grasp  and  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  became  the  little  sister  of  all  womankind,  a 
girl  whose  wealth  had  turned  to  ashes  and  whose  au- 
tocracy fell  about  her  like  dead  leaves. 

"How's  Brownie?"  She  ignored  Mrs.  Larpent's 
hand  and  cheek,  and  passed  into  the  house  without 
waiting  for  an  answer.  The  screen  door  went  back 
with  a  clang. 

"  Good  Lord,"  said  Franklin,  summing  up  the 
whole  place  in  one  rapid  glance,  "  what  a  filthy  hole !  " 

Malcolm  pointed  to  the  chickens.  "  But  look  at 
these,"  he  laughed,  refreshed. 

"  Welcome,"  said  Ida  Larpent,  not  so  much  clasp- 
ing Franklin's  hand  as  embracing  it.  She  had  the 
knack.  "  It's  good  to  see  you  again.  Life  has  its 
compensations." 


310  SCANDAL 

"  Thanks." 

"  Quite  a  good  sort,  after  all,"  thought  Franklin. 
"  Ripping  hat.  Always  makes  me  feel  like  a  man 
who  goes  behind  the  scenes  after  the  last  act." 

A  white-haired,  chatty  negro  led  Beatrix  up  two 
flights  of  carpetless  stairs,  along  a  narrow  echoing 
passage  to  a  door  almost  at  the  end  of  it. 

"  Don't  knock,"  said  Beatrix,  and  paid  him  with  a 
smile. 

The  room  was  bare  and  large  and  barn-like.  Its 
three  large  windows  were  screened.  Its  stained  floor 
was  rubbed  and  almost  colorless.  There  was  a  cheap 
writing  desk  of  yellow  wood,  a  glass-topped  dressing 
table  to  match,  a  stand  with  a  water  bottle  on  it  and 
a  shiver-inspiring  white  cuspidor  beneath,  several 
strips  of  thin-worn  string  matting  and  a  lamp  hang- 
ing from  the  centre  of  a  none  too  clean  ceiling. 

Mrs.  Lester  Keene  was  lying  on  a  bed  with  brass 
knobs  which  sagged  perceptibly  in  the  middle.  Bea- 
trix tip-toed  to  it  and  went  down  on  her  knees  and  put 
her  arms  round  the  little  lady's  shoulders.  "  Brownie 
dear,  I've  come,"  she  said. 

There  was  a  great  maternal  cry,  and  a  passion  of 
tears. 

"  That's  right.  Weep,  Brownie,  my  dear  little 
Brownie,  it  will  do  you  good.  You  were  frightened 
for  me,  weren't  you  ?  The  others  wondered  what  was 
the  matter  with  you,  but  you  and  I  know,  don't  we? 
There  are  no  secrets  between  us  and  now  you'll  get 
well,  won't  you  ?  I'm  so  sorry !  " 

And  the  little  woman  clung  weakly  and  fondly  and 


SCANDAL  311 

stroked  the  face  of  the  beautiful  girl  who  meant  so 
much  to  her  and  for  whom  she  liked  to  think  that  she 
was  responsible.  "  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,"  she  cried, 
"  you  don't  know  what  agonies  I've  been  through,  or 
how  dreadful  it  was  to  see  the  yacht  going  away  and 
you  alone  and  unprotected  with  that  man." 

"  Was  it  possible  that  /  called  him  *  that  man ' 
then?  "  thought  Beatrix. 

"  I've  been  nearly  distraught  to  think  of  all  the  in- 
dignities that  you  have  had  to  suffer.  I  could  not 
close  my  eyes  for  fear  of  seeing  unspeakable  pictures, 
though  at  night  I  thought  I  could  hear  you  calling  to 
me  to.  come  and  help  you  and  you  so  young  and  proud 
and  fine  and  helpless.  Oh  —  oh!  and  are  you  all 
right  ?  Will  you  swear  that  you're  all  right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Brownie  dear,  I'm  all  right.  Can't  you  see 
that  I'm  all  right  ?  "  But  there  were  tears  on  her 
cheeks  and  a  pain  at  her  heart  because  she  was  so  much 
all  wrong.  Couldn't  he  have  said  just  one  word  all 
day,  just  one,  to  show  her  that  she  meant  more  to  him 
than  a  mere  woman, —  after  all  that  they  had  been 
through  between  life  and  death?  Couldn't  he  have 
given  her  one  look  to  show  that  he  was  something 
besides  merely  a  man  and  that  he  had  held  her  so  per- 
fectly in  his  arms  and  kept  her  warm  to  love  and 
comfort  and  hold  always,  always? 

"Then  why  are  you  crying?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Keene,  sharply. 

"  You  make  me  cry,  Brownie,  to  see  you  like  this." 

"/  make  you  cry?  You!"  The  voice  was  in- 
credulous, skeptical,  amazed.  The  elderly  companion 


312  SCANDAL 

whose  dog-like  devotion  and  affection  had  not  blinded 
her  to  the  faults  of  this  gold-child,  this  artificial  flower 
born  and  reared  in  a  house  of  egregious  wealth,  helped 
herself  up  in  the  bed  and  peered  into  the  girl's  face. 
"  There  is  something  wrong !  I  hardly  know  you. 
Tell  me,  tell  me ! "  Her  voice  was  thin  and  shrill 
from  anxiety  and  fear. 

The  girl's  eyes  fell  a  little  and  a  sob  shook  her  shoul- 
ders. 

"  Oh,  my  God!     What  has  that  man  done  to  you? '' 

Beatrix  put  a  finger  on  her  lips  but  the  old  note  of 
command  had  gone.  "  Hush,  Brownie,  hush,"  she 
said  gently.  "  Don't  cry  out  like  that,  dear.  You'll 
make  yourself  ill  again." 

The  little  woman's  face  grew  whiter.  "  Oh,  my 
darling!  "  she  blurted  out,  conscience- stricken,  "  if  only 
I  had  been  able  to  look  after  you,  if  only  I  had  been 
strong  enough  to  refuse  to  leave  you!  You  don't 
know  what  you  mean  to  me.  I  know  I've  been  useless 
and  weak.  I  know  I've  never  really  been  able  to  di- 
rect or  guide  you  but  I've  done  my  best,  darling,  and  it 
will  kill  me  to  think  that  you,  you,  who  have  seemed 
to  me  like  a  princess  in  a  fairy  tale,  so  pure  and  fine, 
have  been  hurt  by  this  man.  Oh,  my  dear,  what  has 
that  man  done  to  you?  " 

"  Listen,  Brownie.  That  man  has  made  me  come 
all  the  way  down  to  earth.  That  man  has  taken  every- 
thing from  me, —  pride  and  scorn  and  shallowness,  the 
desire  to  experiment,  the  impatience  of  possession,  and 
put  there  instead  something  that  makes  me  want  to  go 
and  sit  down  at  the  side  of  women  with  children  and 


SCANDAL  313 

hold  tHeir  hands.  That  man  has  brought  me  up  to 
truth  and  reason.  He  has  made  me  human  and  hum- 
ble and  jealous  and  eager  for  his  touch.  He  has 
made  me  love  him  and  need  him  and  want  to  serve 
him.  Look  at  me,  Brownie,  look  at  me  and  see  it  for 
yourself ! " 

She  held  up  her  lovely,  tear-stained  face,  the  face 
that  Malcolm  had  described,  the  picture  of  which  was 
locked  up  in  his  heart.  And  Mrs.  Keene,  speechless, 
looked  and  saw  and  wondered. 

And  suddenly  the  golden  head  was  crushed  against 
the  childless  bosom.  "  Brownie,  Brownie,  he  doesn't 
love  me,  he  doesn't  love  me,  and  I  wish  I  were  dead." 

Could  this  be  Beatrix, —  this  ? 


XXXVI 

FINDING  that  Franklin  had  left  the  bedroom  that 
had  been  allotted  to  him  after  washing  and  changing 
his  clothes, —  the  others  had  been  flung  about  the  bar- 
rack-like room, —  Malcolm  went  downstairs  and  out 
to  the  veranda.  Ida  Larpent  was  sitting  in  front  of 
a  tea-table  like  Patience  on  a  monument,  dodging  mos- 
quitoes. 

"Where's  Pelham?"  she  asked,  raising  her  eye- 
brows. 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you." 

"And  Beatrix?" 

"  In  with  Mrs.  Keene,  I  think." 

Mrs.  Larpent  heaved  a  little  sigh.  "  Poor  old 
thing!  She'll  get  well  now,  and  we,  I  take  it,  can  go 
our  ways  in  peace.  I  don't  ever  want  to  go  through 
this  experience  again." 

Malcolm  laughed.  "  Well,  I've  rather  enjoyed  it," 
he  said,  "  apart,  of  course,  from  the  fact  that  Mrs. 
Keene  has  suffered." 

"  Enjoyed  it?  "  There  was  a  note  of  anger  in  Mrs. 
Larpent's  clear  voice.  "  Such  food,  such  beds,  such 
cockroaches,  such  service,  such  an  appalling  place  ?  " 

"  I've  been  studying  the  beautiful  unselfishness  of 
the  mother  hen,"  said  Malcolm.  "  It's  a  revelation 
to  me." 


SCANDAL  315 

Mrs.  Larpent  shrugged  her  shoulders  impatiently. 
"  I've  known  one  or  two  other  poets  in  my  time,"  she 
said,  "  but  I've  never  been  able  to  make  out  whether 
their  childishness  was  a  pose  or  mere  stupidity.  It 
requires  no  study  to  know  that  the  mother  hen  is  not 
unselfish.  Like  other  mothers  she  is  the  creature  of 
overwhelming  circumstances,  the  slave  of  nature. 
However,  what's  the  news  ?  What  is  to  happen  next  ? 
Is  the  Galatea  to  deliver  us  back  to  New  York  or  do 
we  find  our  own  way  back  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  said  Malcolm,  who  wouldn't  have 
said  anything  else  if  he  had  known  it.  Mrs.  Lar- 
pent was  one  of  the  few  women  of  his  acquaintance 
whom  he  really  disliked.  He  found  her  hard  and 
without  an  ounce  of  idealism  or  imagination.  She 
believed  in  nothing  that  didn't  carry  a  certificate  of 
proof,  in  no  one  who  was  not  duly  entered  in  "  Who's 
Who,"  looked  upon  faith  as  a  sort  of  patent  medicine, 
hope  as  a  form  of  mental  weakness  and  charity  as  a 
sharp  way  of  getting  rid  of  people  who  either  made 
street  noises  or  had  pathetic  stories  to  tell.  He  and 
she  had  not  got  on  at  all  well. 

To  the  great  relief  of  both  Franklin  came  up. 
"  We're  waiting  tea  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Larpent. 

"  I'm  so  sorry.  I've  been  along  to  the  post-office. 
I  thought  I'd  better  wire  this  address  to  the  Van- 
derdykes  as  we  shall  be  here  till  the  Galatea  lies  off. 
They  had  our  next  place  of  call  for  letters."  He 
sat  down  rather  heavily.  "  Yes,  tea's  a  good 
idea." 

There  was  nothing  of  happiness  about  this  man, 


316  SCANDAL 

Mrs.  Larpent  told  herself  in  a  spirit  of  self -congratu- 
lation. He  had  obviously  gained  nothing  by  carrying 
off  Beatrix  except  a  little  line  between  his  eyebrows. 
Serve  him  right.  She  was  glad  to  see  it.  She  could 
have  made  him  happy  if  the  party  had  continued  on 
the  yacht. 

Tea  came  but  no  Beatrix.  Mrs.  Larpent  poured  out, 
and  as  she  did  so  her  spirits  rose.  Things  looked  good. 
She  had  never  been  able  to  find  a  reason  for  their 
sham  honeymoon,  puzzle  as  she  might.  It  remained 
an  inscrutable  mystery,  and  all  her  cunning  endeavors 
to  trick  Mrs.  Keene  and  Malcolm  into  confession  had 
failed.  She  argued  that  they  knew, —  Malcolm  be- 
cause he  brought  Beatrix  to  the  yacht  and  Mrs.  Keene 
because  of  her  extraordinary  nervous  breakdown.  In 
any  case  that  business  failed  to  be  of  interest  now. 
The  point  was  how  much,  if  at  all,  was  Franklin  in 
love  with  or  physically  attracted  by  Beatrix.  If  he 
was  in  love  with  her  and  had  been  turned  down, —  his 
whole  appearance  and  attitude  proved  that, —  her  op- 
portunity to  catch  him  on  the  rebound  was  most  ex- 
cellent. In  her  large  experience  men  committed  mat- 
rimony or  undertook  obligations  immediately  after 
being  refused.  If  he  had  been  physically  attracted 
merely,  and  had  met  with  no  success, —  which  was 
patent, —  the  same  argument  applied.  How  glad  she 
was  that  she  had  seen  the  wisdom  of  staying  in  that 
abominable  shack,  ostensibly  to  look  after  the  woman 
who  got  so  completely  on  her  nerves.  Her  room  was 
next  to  Franklin's,  too.  Could  luck  have  been 
kinder? 


SCANDAL  317 

"  Have  you  sent  any  tea  up  to  Beatrix  ?  "  asked 
Franklin,  suddenly. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Larpent.  "  She'll  order  it  herself 
if  she  wants  any,  don't  you  think  so?  " 

Franklin  got  up.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  said,  and 
stalked  into  the  hotel,  asked  the  comatose  clerk  the 
number  of  Mrs.  Keene's  room,  waved  away  a  gym- 
nastic colored  boy  who  volunteered  to  show  him  and 
went  upstairs  two  at  a  time.  Sooner  or  later  he 
would  be  obliged,  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion,  either 
to  put  as  many  thousand  miles  between  himself  and 
Beatrix  as  the  map  of  the  earth  allowed  or  treat  her 
as  a  sister.  All  the  day's  thinking  had  proved  this 
to  him,  who  knew  so  little  about  women. 

He  knocked  on  the  door,  waited  and  knocked  again. 

It  was  opened  by  Beatrix,  who  was  still  in  her  dust- 
covered  clothes  and  hat.  He  saw  at  once  that  she 
had  been  crying  and  resented  it  as  much  as  though  he 
had  seen  her  arm  in  a  splint. 

"  Have  you  had  tea?  "  he  asked  bluntly,  because  he 
wanted  to  kiss  her  beyond  description  and  hadn't  the 
right. 

"  No,"  said  Beatrix. 

"  Shall  I  send  some  up?  "/ 

"  Will  you  ?     I'd  love  it.     I'm  so  tired." 

"  Yes,  of  course  you  are.  Why  didn't  you  ring  and 
make  this  rotten  hotel  run  about?  " 

"  I  forgot.  It's  awfully  nice  of  you  to  have  both- 
ered about  me." 

Franklin  swallowed  a  rush  of  words,  nodded,  made 
small  work  of  the  echoing  stairs  and  stood  in  front 


318  SCANDAL 

of  the  unoffending  clerk  with  eyes  black  with  unex- 
plainable  anger.  "  Why  the  devil  haven't  you  sent  tea 
up  to  Mrs.  Franklin?  Don't  argue.  Get  it  done  at 
once  or  I'll  pull  this  barn  down  board  by  board.  For 
two,  with  hot  buttered  toast.  Quick !  " 

Two  colored  boys  who  had  overheard  these  words 
and  caught  the  clerk's  eyes  went  off  like  demented 
athletes.  Left  standing,  the  clerk  pulled  himself  to- 
gether. He  felt  as  though  a  cart  load  of  bricks  had 
fallen  on  his  head.  What  was  the  matter  with  this 
man?  Anyone  would  think  he'd  bought  the  darned 
earth ! 

Ida  Larpent  and  Malcolm  did  most  of  the  talking 
while  Franklin  drank  three  cups  of  tea  and  ate  all 
the  toast.  Malcolm  knew  that  before  long  he  would 
be  marched  off  somewhere  to  listen  to  his  old  pal's 
troubles  and  so  he  waited  with  his  characteristic  pa- 
tience and  all  his  sympathy  on  the  boil,  determined 
not  to  permit  his  curiosity  to  lead  his  imagination  into 
any  further  maze.  It  seemed  to  him  to  be  disloyal. 
Ida  Larpent  concentrated  her  strategic  knowledge  upon 
a  plan  of  action  to  be  carried  into  effect  during  the 
night.  She  must  act  quickly  because  Franklin,  like 
Beatrix,  went  off  at  sudden  tangents.  He  might  take 
it  into  his  head  to  leave  the  place  at  a  moment's  notice 
and  she  might  not  see  him  again  for  months. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  kill  time  until  the  so-called 
dinner?"  she  asked,  looking  at  Franklin.  "Can  I 
suggest  anything  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks,"  he  replied.  "  Malcolm  and  I  are 
going  to  explore  the  quay,  if  there  is  such  a  thing." 


SCANDAL  319 

She  laughed  softly.  He  could  do  what  he  liked 
with  all  the  hours  till  midnight.  The  others  at 
the  beginning  of  a  new  day  would  be  hers,  if  she 
knew  anything  of  men  and  life.  She  opened  a 
book. 

Franklin  got  up,  pushed  the  table  away,  dragged  up 
a  chair  for  Mrs.  Larpent's  feet,  made  a  mental  note 
of  the  fact  that  she  was  a  good  sort  and  took  Mal- 
colm's arm. 

"  Come  on,  old  son,"  he  said.  "  Let's  get  out  of 
this." 

Turkey  and  chickens  made  way  for  these  tall  crea- 
tures, the  two  drummers  at  the  other  end  of  the 
veranda  concentrated  a  united  gaze  on  Mrs.  Larpent's 
ankles,  a  Ford  went  off  with  a  harsh  rattle  carrying 
two  men  in  their  shirt  sleeves,  and  a  ragamuffinly  kit- 
ten gave  a  marvelous  imitation  of  a  bucking  horse 
and  bolted  up  a  tree. 

As  they  faced  the  Atlantic  Franklin  squared  his 
shoulders  and  drew  in  a  long,  grateful  breath.  The 
line  went  out  of  his  forehead  and  his  mouth  relaxed. 
Here  at  any  rate  was  an  element  that  he  understood  in 
all  its  moods,  rough  and  smooth. 

"  Malcolm,  will  you  come  to  Europe  with  me  ?  " 

"  Any  time,"  said  Malcolm. 

"  Right.  To-morrow  night,  then.  I  wish  to  God  I 
had  an  aeroplane.  We'd  get  away  sooner." 

He  looked  round  impatiently.  The  so-called  quay 
might  have  been  made  away  back  before  the  Great 
Wind  and  carelessly  patched  together  after  it.  It  ran 
out  into  a  small  bay  for  the  use  of  perhaps  a  dozen 


320  SCANDAL 

cat-boats,  a  couple  of  nice  yawls,  a  very  spruce  shoal- 
draught  sloop  just  in,  a  well  put  together  lark  and  a 
number  of  dirty  little  power  boats  belonging  to  the 
negro  fishermen.  Several  bankrupt-looking  sheds 
added  to  the  general  neglected  appearance  of  the  whole 
scene,  which  was  heightened  by  three  carcasses  of 
dead  dories  with  all  their  ribs  sticking  out  lying  up  on 
the  beach  and  all  among  dry  seaweed  and  rubbish. 

"  What's  the  particular  hurry?  "  asked  Malcolm. 

Franklin  turned  upon  him.  "  I'm  sick  of  myself, 
sick  of  life,  sick  of  the  whole  blessed  show,"  he  said. 
"  I  want  to  get  right  away.  I  want  to  put  all  the  sea 
there  is  between  myself  and  Beatrix.  If  anybody  had 
told  me  before  I  went  to  the  Vanderdykes  that  a  bit 
of  a  girl  was  going  to  turn  me  into  a  first-class  fool 
I'd  have  called  him  a  sentimental  crank." 

"  I  know,"  said  Malcolm.  "  It  all  depends  on  the 
girl,  though.  All  wise  men,  all  men  who  fathom  the 
fact  in  time  that  life  means  nothing  if  it's  selfish,  fall 
over  each  other  to  be  made  first-class  fools  of  by  the 
right  girl.  Besides,  who  says  you've  been  turned  into 
a  first-class  fool?  You  love  Beatrix  without  success. 
So  do  I.  That  doesn't  make  us  fools,  either  of  us. 
I  hold  that  we  have  to  thank  our  stars  to  have  met  her. 
The  fool  part  of  it  would  be  in  not  having  loved 
her.  That's  my  view  of  it.  And  look  here,  Pel,  old 
man,  don't  be  quite  so  ready  to  call  people  sentimental 
cranks  who  talk  about  love.  What  are  we  here  for? 
What's  the  use  of  living  without  it?  Clubs  are  built 
for  men  who  have  missed  the  one  good  thing  there  is 
to  win  in  this  queer  little  interlude  between  something 


SCANDAL  321 

we  can't  remember  and  something  we're  not  intended 
to  know." 

Franklin  listened  to  this  unexpected  outburst  with 
a  sort  of  boyish  gravity.  Malcolm  had  the  knack  of 
saying  things  that  were  true,  and  this  that  he  had 
just  said,  with  uncharacteristic  heat,  was  dead  true. 
Franklin  knew  that.  Moreover  he  had  the  honesty 
and  the  courage  to  say  so. 

"  Quite  right,  old  son.  I  was  talking  through  my 
hat  as  usual.  But  the  difference  between  you  and  me 
is  this.  You're  a  poet  and  when  you're  turned  down 
you  have  the  safety  valve  of  verse.  You  can  write 
about  it.  I'm  only  a  common  or  garden  sporting  cove 
who  has  to  grin  and  bear  it.  And  when  you've  got  a 
girl  like  Beatrix  in  your  blood  there  isn't  much  grin- 
ning, believe  me.  Come  on.  Let's  walk  and  I'll  put 
you  up  to  date." 

And  away  they  went  arm  in  arm  along  the  shore 
while  the  sun  went  down. 

And  up  in  her  bare  bedroom  Beatrix  gave  herself 
eagerly  into  the  hands  of  her  maid.  "  If  I  look  my 
best,"  she  thought,  "  perhaps " 

Men  and  women  and  history, —  repetition,  that's 
all! 


XXXVII 

DINNER  was  fairly  good.  The  word  had  been 
taken  to  the  kitchen  that  Franklin  might  stalk  in  and 
kill  the  chef.  That  dark  mass  of  humanity  outdid 
himself  in  consequence.  Life  was  very  dear  to  him. 

One  of  the  waiters  at  Franklin's  table  had  been  fif- 
teen years  in  the  hotel.  The  other  twelve.  They  mu- 
tually agreed  behind  the  screen  that  there  had  never 
been  two  such  beautiful  ladies  in  its  dining-room  in 
their  time.  They  too  were  on  their  metal. 

Beatrix  played  up.  She  had  bathed  and  slept  a  lit- 
tle and  poured  out  her  heart  to  Brownie  and  felt  bet- 
ter from  the  fact  that  her  presence  had  done  her  old 
friend  so  much  good.  Besides,  she  had  grit  and  the 
courage  of  a  thoroughbred.  She  was  not  going  to  let 
anyone  see  that  there  was  a  pain  in  her  heart  if  she 
died  for  it.  And  so  she  set  the  ball  rolling  and  kept 
the  table  merry.  It  was  well  done. 

Malcolm  did  his  share  and  brought  tears  of  laugh- 
ter from  everybody  by  describing  a  scandal-mongering 
conversation  between  two  turkeys.  The  younger  of 
the  two  waiters  nearly  had  a  fit.  Ida  Larpent  was  in 
excellent  spirits  and  Franklin  as  cheery  as  he  could 
always  be  when  he  tried. 

Afterwards  they  adjourned  to  a  ludicrously- fur- 
nished room  called  the  drawing-room  decorated  with 


SCANDAL  323 

tortured  wood  and  chairs  which  had  obviously  been 
designed  by  plumbers.  Everything  in  it  was  the  color 
of  Virginia  tobacco, —  the  epitome  of  biliousness. 
Here  they  played  Bridge  while  the  proprietor's  over- 
plump  daughter  with  a  huge  white  bow  on  the  top 
of  her  head  giggled  and  whispered  to  several  girl 
friends  in  the  sun  parlor  and  presently  set  a  Victrola 
going.  Between  the  tunes,  which  were  redolent  of 
Broadway,  the  click  of  billiard  balls  could  be  heard. 
Frogs  in  a  nearby  pond  croaked  their  inevitable  chorus. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  rubber  Beatrix  rose.  "  I 
can't  go  on,"  she  said.  "  There  are  so  many  distrac- 
tions. It's  almost  like  being  in  a  railway  accident. 
Take  me  down  to  look  at  the  sea,  Pelham." 

Franklin  led  the  way.  He  would  have  liked  it  bet- 
ter if  she  had  been  angry  with  him  and  there  had  been 
an  excuse  for  quarreling.  He  might  then  have  had 
a  reason  for  blazing  at  her  and  losing  his  self-control. 
To  be  treated  like  a  brother, —  it  was  better  than  noth- 
ing, he  supposed,  but  it  made  him  feel  like  a  man  with 
his  arms  roped  to  his  sides. 

They  went  along  the  sandy  road  lined  with  curious 
stunted  trees  to  the  quay.  A  full  moon  dominated  a 
sky  that  blazed  with  stars.  There  was  not  even  the 
tail-end  of  a  cloud.  The  lazy  sea  plopped  heavily 
against  the  stanchions  and  made  the  small  craft  wobble 
from  side  to  side.  Ropes  creaked  and  quivered. 
There  was  hardly  any  wind.  On  the  tip  of  the  quay 
a  girl  was  sitting  with  her  head  on  a  man's  shoulder. 
One  of  his  arms  was  round  her  waist.  Their  legs 
dangled  over  the  edge.  It  was  a  night  for  love. 


324  SCANDAL 

Beatrix  said  nothing  for  several  minutes.  She 
stood  hatless,  with  her  hands  behind  her  back  and  her 
shoulders  square.  She  looked  dangerously  young, 
Franklin  thought,  and  far  too  precious  to  be  un- 
guarded. But  with  another  look  he  corrected  him- 
self,—  so  young  that  her  confidence  was  a  better  guard 
than  an  armed  man.  He  wondered  what  she  was 
thinking  about. 

"  You've  never  had  a  sister,  have  you  ?  "  she  asked 
suddenly. 

"  No,"  said  Franklin. 

"  What  a  pity." 

"Why?" 

"  She  would  have  been  a  lucky  girl." 

"  There  you  are,"  thought  Franklin.  "  Nothing 
but  a  brother,  you  see." 

She  faced  him  unexpectedly.  "  What  are  you  going 
to  do  with  me  now  ?  " 

He  knew  his  answer  but  he  made  it,  "  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do  with  you  ?  " 

And  she  made  hers,  "  Something  must  be  done." 

He  stood  looking  at  her.  He  had  no  inkling  that 
they  were  at  cross  purposes  because  he  was  not  a  wom- 
an's man.  Also  because  he  was  entirely  without  con- 
ceit. It  was  only  when  he  dreamed  and  a  miracle 
happened,  that  Beatrix  returned  his  love.  In  her 
new  state,  which  was  so  new  that  she  felt  almost  a 
stranger  in  the  world,  Beatrix  was  without  conceit 
too.  She  believed  that  Franklin,  because  she  had  seen 
the  nobility  of  his  character  out  there  in  that  strange 
mist,  had  outgrown  the  attraction  of  her  sex  and  had 


SCANDAL  325 

become  brotherly.  Some  big  moment  was  needed  to 
startle  these  two  young  people  who  were  so  much 
alike  into  the  truth, —  these  two  who  had  always  been 
handicapped  by  excessive  wealth  and  whose  lives  had 
touched  in  a  manner  that  was  so  bizarre  and  accidental. 
What  if  the  big  moment  never  came?  Big  moments 
are  not  put  in  the  way  of  everybody  and  even  if  they 
are,  go  by  unrecognized  in  so  many  instances. 

"  Yes,"  said  Franklin,  "  we  can't  go  on  like  this." 

"  You  still  think  that  the  only  way  out  is  mar- 
riage ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  so." 

"  And  then  divorce  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Beatrix  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  "  I've  asked  so  much 
of  you.  I  couldn't  ask  you  for  that." 

'*  You  don't  have  to  ask  me.     It's  my  suggestion." 

"  You  certainly  are  a  sportsman,"  she  said.  And 
then  she  gave  a  little  gasp.  "  Good  Heavens,  what 
must  I  have  been  made  of  to  have  done  that  thing?  It 
seems  incredible  as  I  look  at  it  now." 

He  spoke  wistfully,  eagerly.  "Does  it?  Why? 
You're  the  same  Beatrix.  You  haven't  changed." 

"  Are  you  the  same  Pelham  Franklin  ?  Haven't 
you  changed  ?  Let's  be  honest  out  here  to-night.  This 
is  the  hour  for  honesty  with  the  moon  so  plain  and 
the  stars  so  gleaming  and  the  sky  so  transparent.  Be- 
sides, I  can't  tell  you  why,  but  I  have  a  sort  of  pre- 
monition that  you  and  I  are  going  to  be  required  to 
face  another  crisis.  I  got  the  feeling  this  afternoon, 
when  I  was  lying  down.  A  bird  was  singing  outside 


326  SCANDAL 

my  window,  a  curious,  jerky  little  song,  and  it  seemed 
to  tell  me  that  I  must  meet  something  squarely  and 
with  courage." 

"Courage?"  said  Franklin.     "You  have  that." 

"You  think  so?" 

"  I  don't  know  it  if  you  haven't  got  it." 

"  That's  the  first  really  nice  thing  you've  ever  said 
to  me,  Pelham." 

It  was  a  pity  that  she  couldn't  see  the  queer  thing 
that  happened  to  his  eyes.  "  I  don't  say  everything 
I  think,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  laugh. 

"  That's  nothing  to  be  proud  of.  There's  lots  of 
room  for  silence  in  the  grave.  Let's  go  back."  She 
was  impatient  again.  She  couldn't  understand  why 
things  were  not  going  as  she  would  have  them  go. 
They  always  had. 

He  stopped  her.  "  No,  not  yet.  I  want  to  tell  you 
something,  kiddie." 

Tears  came  into  her  eyes  somehow  when  he  called 
her  that. 

"  Listen.  If  anything  is  on  the  way  to  us, —  and  if 
you  think  so  I  expect  there  is, —  most  probably  it 
will  send  me  one  way  over  the  earth  and  you  another 
because  this  way  has  failed.  When  I'm  out  of  sight 
I  want  you  to  remember  one  thing." 

"  I  shall  remember  it  all,"  she  said. 

"  But  especially  one  thing.  I  set  out  to  break 
you." 

"  You've  done  that,"  she  said. 

"No,  please  don't  rot  me, —  not  to-night,  out  here. 
If  ever  my  name  flicks  across  your  memory  at  any 


SCANDAL  327 

time  remember  my  idiotic  attempt  to  give  you  the 
spurs." 

"  Why  especially  that?  " 

"  Because  you  beat  me, —  beat  me  to  a  frazzle  and 
that's  the  only  good  thing  about  this  episode." 

"  You're  very  generous,"  she  said,  and  held  out  her 
hand.  She  had  an  insane  desire  to  sit  down  on  those 
dirty  boards  and  cry.  Everything  he  did  and  said 
made  her  love  him  more  and  more.  What  was  the 
matter  with  her  that  she  had  turned  him  into  a 
brother?  Life  had  appeared  to  be  so  easy  to  arrange. 
It  had  become  so  difficult. 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it  tight.  "  I'm  not ' 
generous,"  he  said,  scoffing.  "  Don't  let  any  man 
try  the  breaking  business.  Remain  as  you  are.  Be 
the  spoilt  girl  all  the  rest  of  your  life,  kiddie.  You're 
all  right.  Now  come  in  and  go  to  bed  and  sleep  hard. 
That  thing  you  got  just  now  may  find  us  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

And  they  turned  their  backs  to  the  moon  and  to 
love  and  walked  away  without  another  word. 

Malcolm  and  Ida  Larpent  had  gone  to  bed.  And 
the  fat  girl  with  the  big  bow  and  her  young  friends 
had  disappeared.  The  Victrola  was  silent.  There 
were  no  lights  in  the  drawing-room  or  the  sun  parlor, 
but  the  click  of  billiard  balls  came  into  the  foyer  and 
the  reek  of  cheap  cigars.  Two  colored  bell  boys  on 
the  verge  of  sleep  sat  near  the  desk.  Outside  the  frogs 
were  still  at  work  on  their  endless  ensemble. 

Beatrix  nodded  and  smiled  and  went  upstairs.  She 
had  left  her  key  in  Mrs.  Keene's  room.  Franklin 


328  SCANDAL 

hung  about  aimlessly  for  ten  minutes  reading  the  rail- 
road timetables  with  no  interest  and  the  printed  no- 
tices to  visitors  and  looking  at  the  colored  advertise- 
ments of  steamships  and  whisky  and  magazines,  with- 
out taking  them  in.  Yes,  the  episode  had  failed.  He 
was  beat, —  beat  to  a  frazzle.  What  was  going  to 
happen  next  ? 

Ida  Larpent  heard  him  stride  along  the  passage,  go 
into  his  room  and  shut  the  door.  Through  the  thin 
walls  she  could  hear  him  shunt  a  chair  and  do  some- 
thing to  his  windows  and  move  about. 

She  wore  a  curious  smile  and  an  almost  transparent 
nightgown.  Her  black  hair  was  all  about  her  shoul- 
ders and  in  her  eyes  there  was  a  strange  eagerness. 

For  half  an  hour  she  sat  as  still  as  a  statue  watching 
the  hands  of  her  little  diamond-studded  watch.  Her 
opportunity  had  come.  She  was  going  to  seize  it. 
She  knew  men,  no  one  better.  This  one  needed  love 
and  she,  yes,  she  of  all  women  would  give  it  to  him. 

In  that  long,  peculiar  half  hour  during  which  her 
body  was  without  movement,  her  brain  worked  and 
her  heart  raced.  She  loved  and  would  make  a  sacri- 
fice for  love.  That  was  the  burden  of  her  inward 
song.  Not  of  the  future,  not  of  freedom  from  money 
worries,  not  of  mercenary  things, —  love,  her  first 
great  love  and  its  fulfilment.  Of  that  she  thought, 
smiling,  and  thanking  her  stars. 

And  when  the  half  hour  was  up  she  rose,  put  on  a 
peignoir,  slipped  out  of  her  room  on  the  tips  of  her 
little  pink  slippers  and  tapped  at  Franklin's  door.  He 
called  out  "  Come  "  and  she  went  in. 


SCANDAL  329 

He  was  sitting  in  a  dressing  gown  in  a  cane  chair, 
under  the  electric  lamp  that  hung  from  the  middle  of 
the  ceiling,  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  a  book  in  his 
hand  and  his  feet  on  a  cranky  table.  There  was  a 
cloud  of  good  tobacco  smoke  round  his  head. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  at  the  sight  of  her.  Although 
there  was  nothing  of  the  frightened  woman  about  her, 
the  only  thing  that  occurred  to  him  was  that  she  needed 
his  help.  A  thief  after  her  rings,  probably. 

"What's  the  matter?"  instinctively  lowering  his 
voice.  "  Anyone  in  your  room  ?  " 

She  shut  the  door  and  smiled  at  him.  After  all  she 
rather  liked  his  naive  assumption  that  she  had  not  gone 
to  his  room  for  anything  but  his  assistance  in  some 
emergency.  It  was  very  charming  and  boyish  and 
clean  and  all  that.  It  made  things  just  a  little  diffi- 
cult to  explain  though.  "  I  see  you're  not  in  a  hurry 
to  go  to  bed,"  she  said,  "  so  may  I  sit  down  and  have 
a  cigarette  ?  I've  lots  to  say  to  you  and  there  has  been 
no  other  opportunity  to-day." 

"  Of  course,"  he  said.  "  Please  do.  I  hate  read- 
ing, and  sleep  is  miles  away."  He  placed  his  chair  for 
her,  the  only  more  or  less  comfortable  one  in  the 
room,  and  got  a  cigarette  and  lit  it.  "  Awfully  nice 
of  you  to  come  in.  Well,  what's  the  news  ?  " 

He  drew  up  a  stiff-backed  chair  and  sat  straddle 
with  his  arms  on  the  back  of  it.  A  good  sort,  Ida 
Larpent,  he  told  himself,  and  extraordinary  pictur- 
esque. He  couldn't  make  out  why  she  didn't  marry 
again.  She  could  take  her  pick. 

"  Please  may  I  have  a  pillow  ?     I  can  feel  every  rib 


330  SCANDAL 

of  cane.     It  hurts  a  little.     I'm  sorry  to  be  fussy." 

"  Not  a  bit."  He  placed  one  of  his  pillows  behind 
her  back.  "  How's  that  ?" 

"  Much  better,  thanks." 

He  went  back  to  his  chair  and  sat  looking  at  her 
with  a  most  friendly  and  admiring  smile. 

She  liked  the  last  part  of  it  but  not  the  first.  It 
was  all  more  than  a  little  disconcerting.  She  knew 
men  but  not  of  his  type.  It  would  perhaps  have  been 
better  for  men,  to  say  nothing  of  herself,  if  she  had 
known  one  or  two.  Give  a  dog  a  bad  name  and  hang 
him.  She  was  conscious  of  looking  extremely  allur- 
ing in  her  geranium  pink  peignoir  and  slippers  and 
her  silk  nightgown  cut  very  low  and  her  thick,  black 
hair,  which  fluffed  out  over  her  shoulders,  rather  like 
that  of  a  Russian  prima  ballerina. 

"  There's  no  news,"  she  said.  "  The  faithful  Mrs. 
Keene  gave  me  a  good  deal  of  worry,  poor,  little  soul, 
and  Malcolm  Fraser  has  not  been  a  very  entertaining 
companion.  He's  by  way  of  not  liking  me." 

Franklin  laughed.     "  Why  ?     He  likes  everybody." 

"  Because  I  don't  like  him,  I  suppose.  I  never  get 
on  very  well  with  poets  at  any  time.  They  always 
seem  to  belong  to  the  cherub  family, —  cut  off  at  the 
shoulders,  I  mean,  and  surrounded  with  Christmas 
card  clouds." 

Franklin  laughed  again.  "  You  should  see  him 
whipping  a  trout  stream  or  crawling  after  deer." 

"  Mrs.  Keene's  in  the  next  room,"  said  Mrs.  Lar- 
pent,  warningly.  Would  he  take  the  hint  and  be  a 
little  less  sun-parlorish  ? 


SCANDAL  331 

"  Is  she  ?  By  Jove,  yes.  I  mustn't  make  such  a 
row.  I  wouldn't  disturb  her  for  anything." 

No,  he  had  missed  it.  She  crossed  one  leg  over  the 
other.  Rather  more  than  a  slim,  white  ankle  showed. 
Well,  the  night  was  all  in  front  of  them.  "  It  was  a 
horrid  trick,  getting  rid  of  us  like  that.  I  nad  just 
settled  down  on  the  Galatea  and  was  preparing  to  have 
the  first  really  happy  time  of  my  life.  You  alone 
among  men  have  it  in  your  power  to  do  that  for  me, 
Pelham."  She  felt  that  she  was  hurrying  a  little. 

"  Well,  the  Galatea  can  be  at  your  service  again. 
Not  yet  though,  I'm  afraid.  Malcolm  and  I  have  a 
plan  in  the  back  of  our  heads."  He  got  up  and  heaved 
a  sigh  and  walked  about.  Beatrix  came  back  into  his 
head  at  the  mention  of  the  Galatea.  He  could  see  her 
leaning  against  the  starboard  rail  with  the  sun  on  her 
golden  head  and  her  chin  held  high.  He  would  al- 
ways be  able  to  see  that  picture,  thank  God ! 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Larpent,  hoping  that, 
after  all,  she  had  not  hurried  too  fast  and  that  it  was 
not  her  remark  that  made  him  restless.  Any  other 
man  almost  would  have  caught  her  meaning. 

"  Not  yet,"  he  said.  "  It  isn't  sufficiently  formed." 
And  then  he  lit  a  cigarette  and  sat  down  again,  with 
a  chuckle.  "  I  can't  fancy  you  in  this  one-eyed  hole. 
I  thought,  of  course,  that  you'd  stay  the  night  here 
and  then  take  the  first  possible  train  to  New  York." 

"  Did  you  think  what  would  happen  to  me  after 
that?" 

"  No,  I  confess  I  didn't.  Southampton,  or  some 
such  place.  Society  on  the  beach.  You  said  some- 


332  SCANDAL 

thing  about  Southampton,  in  the  summer  when  you 
had  mercy  on  me  that  time  and  we  did  the  theatres. 
.You  were  awfully  good  to  me  then." 

She  tried  a  daring  move.  "  You  paid  me  well, 
didn't  you  ?  " 

Franklin  looked  as  uncomfortable  as  he  felt.  He 
went  off  at  a  quick  tangent.  "  I  don't  think  I  shall 
be  in  New  York  next  fall,"  he  said.  "  I  may  go  back 
to  South  Africa." 

Was  he  really  quite  so  dense?  she  asked  herself. 
Had  he  forgotten  every  single  word  of  that  odd  talk 
in  the  Vanderdykes'  library?  Would  she  have  to 
square  up  to  him  and  blurt  out  the  truth  ?  What  was 
he  made  of  ? 

She  would  have  one  more  try.  She  got  up.  "  I 
must  go  now,"  she  said.  "  It's  getting  late." 

He  got  up  too  and  opened  his  door.  "  Thanks  for 
looking  me  up,"  he  said.  "  It  was  very  friendly  of 
you." 

She  gave  him  one  long,  analytical  look.  No,  she 
and  her  beauty  meant  nothing  to  him.  He  was  not 
teasing  her  into  a  few  uncontrolled  hysterical  words. 
He  was  simply  a  big,  naive,  unsuspicious  man  who 
thought  nothing  but  good  of  her.  She  deserved  bet- 
ter than  this.  She  had  never  had  any  luck.  And  she 
loved  this  man. 

She  said  "  Good  night  "  lightly  and  passed  him  with 
a  fleeting  smile.  But  in  her  own  room  she  flung  her- 
self face  down  on  her  bed  and  cried  badly. 

Franklin  hurled  off  his  dressing  gown  and  switched 
off  the  light.  But  in  front  of  his  eyes  as  he  lay  in  the 


SCANDAL  333 

dark  he  could  see  Beatrix  ankle-deep  in  a  blue  sea, 
with  the  sun  on  her  red  bathing  cap,  clad  in  tights, 
like  a  boy. 

On  her  way  out  of  Mrs.  Keene's  room  Beatrix  saw 
Ida  Larpent  leave  Franklin's.  Someone  seemed  to 
have  thrown  a  stone  at  her  heart. 


XXXVIII 

IDA  LARPENT  did  not  appear  at  the  breakfast  table. 

Not  for  many  years  had  she  permitted  herself  to 
enjoy  the  luxury  of  tears.  It  was  true  that,  since  she 
had  been  flung  on  her  own  resources  and  faced  with 
the  disagreeable  necessity  of  fighting  her  own  battles, 
there  had  been  many  hours  when  tears  would  have 
helped  her  and  made  her  more  human.  She  had  re- 
fused herself  the  indulgence  for  two  reasons.  She 
had  no  sympathy  with  what  she  called  weakness  and 
she  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  spoiling  her  appearance, 
even  temporarily,  by  swollen  lids.  Her  beauty  was 
her  only  asset,  -her  only  stock-in-trade,  and  she  pre- 
served it  with  the  eager  and  consistent  care  of  a  lead- 
ing actress.  But  Nature  had  been  too  strong  for  her 
and  she  had  capitulated  like  an  ordinary  woman  for 
once.  She  had  given  herself  up  to  an  orgy  of  disap- 
pointment, wounded  vanity,  anger  and  bitterness,  and 
after  the  storm  was  over  had  spent  the  rest  of  the  night 
trying  to  see  into  the  future,  balancing  her  account 
with  Fate.  She  was  not  in  immediate  need  of  money. 
Franklin's  generosity  had  put  her  on  her  feet  for  the 
time  being.  She  had  paid  her  pressing  bills  and  could 
face  the  remainder  of  the  year  without  anxiety.  But 
there  were  other  years.  What  of  them?  Her  small 
capital  saved  from  the  wreck  that  she  had  made  of  the 
fond  and  foolish  Clive's  affairs  had  gone.  It  was  cer- 


SCANDAL  '335 

tain  that  she  had  miscalculated  the  sort  of  man  that 
Franklin  was.  Not  having  been  able  to  "  get  him  " 
under  what,  with  most  men,  would  have  been  the  most 
favorable  circumstances,  she  saw  so  little  chance  of 
binding  him  to  her  and  claiming  some  sort  of  protec- 
tion that  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  must  give 
him  up.  She  had  played  Venus  to  his  Adonis  and 
failed.  It  was  not  pride  that  made  her  retire  from 
the  game  but  the  flat  knowledge  that  he  could  do  with- 
out her.  Once  more  then  she  must  go  back  into  the 
Street  of  Adventure  and  lay  her  snares  for  a  rich 
man,  young  or  old.  One  satisfaction  was  here,  and 
this  was  inconsistent  with  her  materialism.  It  was 
better  to  have  loved  and  lost  than  never  to  have  loved 
at  all. 

Beatrix  did  appear  at  the  breakfast  table. 

She  too,  had  had  a  bad  night.  The  shock  of  seeing 
Ida  Larpent  coming  out  of  Franklin's  room  was  awful. 
She  sat  for  an  hour  chilled  to  the  bone.  After  having 
loved  no  one  but  herself,  and  grown  accustomed  to  the 
habit  of  merely  touching  a  bell  to  procure  the  earth, 
it  was  startling  enough  suddenly  to  wake  and  find  that 
the  earth  meant  nothing  to  her  without  the  man  who 
did  not  seem  to  need  her.  In  itself  that  was  so  much 
a  shock  that  her  whole  perspective  was  shattered  and 
out  of  focus.  And  even  if  Franklin  only  liked  her  as 
a  sister,  which  gave  her  sufficient  suffering,  she  loved 
him  and  had  surrounded  him  with  a  girlish  halo  of 
idealism  which  of  all  things  did  not  admit  the  possi- 
bility of  such  a  visit  as  she  had  witnessed. 

No  one  would  have  imagined  who  saw  her  and 


336  SCANDAL 

heard  her  laugh  that  morning  that  she  had  sat  in  the 
dark  for  many  hours  with  life  lying  all  smashed  about 
her  like  a  beautiful  stained  glass  window  through 
which  a  shell  had  burst.  She  joined  Franklin  and 
Malcolm  at  breakfast  with  her  chin  higher  than  ever, 
readier  than  usual  with  banter  and  mischief,  the  em- 
bodiment of  youth,  health  and  careless  joy.  Her  pride 
came  to  her  rescue  and  she  intended  to  live  up  to  Frank- 
lin's estimate  of  her  courage  to  her  last  gasp.  The  dif- 
ference between  Ida  Larpent  and  Beatrix  was  breeding. 

She  found  the  two  men  on  the  veranda  outside  the 
dining-room, —  Franklin  smoking  his  inevitable  pipe. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said.  Her  ringing  voice 
turned  them  both  around.  "  Malcolm,  if  you  don't 
write  a  long  and  terrible  poem  on  the  early  morning 
noises  of  the  country,  I  shall.  Even  New  York  with 
the  explosions  in  the  subway  and  the  rattle  of  motor 
buses  is  a  city  of  the  dead  compared  with  this  place. 
Cocks  began  to  scream  at  each  other  before  daybreak, 
hens  have  been  brawling  for  hours  and  the  gobble  of 
turkeys  under  my  window  has  been  worse  than  an 
election  meeting.  Is  Mrs.  Larpent  down  yet  ?  " 

"  We've  not  seen  her,"  said  Franklin. 

"  I'm  ten  minutes  late,  am  I  not  ?  " 

"  About  that,  but  it  doesn't  matter,"  said  Malcolm. 

"  I  know  it  doesn't,  but  ten  minutes'  grace  is  enough 
even  for  a  woman,  so  let's  go  in  and  eat."  And  she 
led  the  way  into  the  bleak  dining-room,  as  glad  as  a 
school-girl  at  the  chance  of  being  able  to  get  a  little 
bit  back,  a  very  little  bit,  from  Ida  Larpent. 

The  waiters  were  almost  ludicrously  obsequious  and 


SCANDAL  337 

rolled  their  eyes  towards  Franklin  with  the  nervous- 
ness of  pet  monkeys. 

"  How's  Mrs.  Keene  ?  "  Both  men  asked  the  ques- 
tion together. 

"  Up  and  about,"  said  Beatrix.  "  A  little  weak,  of 
course,  but  otherwise  well.  Her  trouble  was  wholly 
mental.  Left  alone  with  Pelham  on  a  yacht,  she  was 
convinced  that,  in  order  to  preserve  my  honor,  as  she 
puts  it,  I  should  have  to  jump  overboard.  Poor,  dear, 
little  affectionate  Brownie.  If  only  she  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  find  out  the  sort  of  a  man  Pelham  is  she 
wouldn't  have  turned  a  hair." 

Malcolm  laughed.  "  Is  that  meant  to  be  compli- 
mentary or  reproachful ?  " 

She  saw  that  Franklin  was  watching  her  keenly. 
"  Both,"  she  said,  with  a  little  bow,  and  sailed  on  be- 
fore he  could  butt  in.  "I  gave  her  a  faithful  account 
of  everything  that  happened  and  she  is  beginning  to 
believe,  very  reluctantly,  that  her  favorite  women 
novelists  don't  know  anything  about  men.  And  now 
what  we  both  want  to  know  is  this.  Where  are  we 
going,  how  are  we  going  and  how  soon  are  we  going, 
or  are  we  all  going  to  spend  the  remainder  of  our 
lives  in  this  rural  retreat  to  make  a  study  of  frogs, 
farmyards  and  fogginess?  " 

Franklin  was  silent  for  a  moment.  This  was  the 
old  Beatrix.  This  was  the  Beatrix  of  New  York,  the 
careless,  superficial,  sarcastic  Beatrix  of  the  house 
party  at  the  Vanderdykes'  palace.  What  a  fool  he 
had  been  to  imagine  that  he  was  the  man  appointed 
to  enable  Miss  Honoria  to  give  thanks  to  God !  "  The 


338  SCANDAL 

Galatea  will  anchor  off  this  place  this  afternoon,"  he 
said.  "  Malcolm  and  I  will  see  you  and  your  staff  off 
to  New  York  on  the  night  train." 

"  And  where  do  you  intend  to  go  ?  " 

"  To  Europe,"  he  said. 

"  Is  that  definitely  arranged  ?  " 

"  Quite.  Malcolm  and  I  settled  it  just  now.  He 
will  spend  a  year  or  so  pottering  about  London,  Paris 
and  Rome  and  I  shall  go  back  to  Africa." 

With  a  mighty  effort  Beatrix  held  herself  under 
absolute  control.  "  But  what  about  the  party  at 
Sherry's  during  Christmas  week  ?  " 

"  Scratched,"  said  Franklin,  shortly. 

"  I  see.  Well,  now  we  know,  don't  we  ?  And 
that's  something.  How  long,  exactly,  do  you  propose 
that  I  shall  remain  a  grass  widow  ?  " 

"  That,"  said  Franklin,  "  is  entirely  up  to  you." 

A  bell-boy  came  in,  rumbled  grinning  up  to  Beatrix 
and  handed  her  a  telegram.  She  took  it.  "  Will  you 
allow  me?"  she  asked,  and  tore  it  open.  A  curious 
smile  played  round  her  lips  as  she  read  it  over  several 
times.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  it  isn't  entirely  up  to  me," 
and  gave  it  to  Franklin. 

And  what  he  read  was  this.  "  Ask  Pelham  to  bring 
you  home  as  soon  as  possible.  No  one  is  ill  but  we 
are  all  greatly  perturbed  by  amazing  rumors  and  daily 
anonymous  letters.  A  consultation  is  necessary. 
Much  love.  Honoria  Vanderdyke." 

"  H'm,"  said  Franklin.  "  Sutherland  York  at  work. 
May  I  show  this  to  Malcolm  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Beatrix. 


SCANDAL  '339 

Malcolm's  remark,  gravely  spoken,  was  "  Scandal 
again." 

"  Yes,  we  are  back  again  at  the  beginning,"  said 
Franklin. 

Beatrix  pushed  back  her  chair  and  got  up  and  went 
out.  As  she  stood  on  the  veranda  with  the  sun  on 
her  golden  head  there  was  not  anxiety  in  her  eyes,  but 
triumph.  If  she  really  knew  Franklin  he  would  not 
desert  her  at  this  new  crisis.  He  would  not  go  to 
Europe  and  to  South  Africa.  He  would  not  consider 
only  himself. 

He  came  out  almost  at  once  and  gave  her  the  tele- 
gram. "  You  may  want  to  keep  this,"  he  said,  and 
stood  in  front  of  her  for  orders. 

"Thanks,— yes." 

They  looked  eagerly  at  each  other,  hoping  against 
hope  that  there  was  something  in  all  this,  something 
more  than  mere  accident,  something  which  it  was  not 
for  them  to  pry  into  or  understand,  that  was  to  bring 
them  as  close  as  only  love  can  bring  a  man  and  a 
woman. 

"Well?" 

And  Franklin  echoed  her.     "  Well  ?  " 

They  mutually  wished  to  God  that  they  were  differ- 
ent, of  better  stuff  and  more  worth  while. 

"  It's  for  you  to  speak,"  she  said. 

"  You  were  right  about  the  feeling  that  something 
was  going  to  happen  to-day." 

She  nodded  and  put  the  telegram  in  her  pocket.  It 
didn't  seem  to  matter  much  what  the  outcome  of  it  was 
going  to  be. 


340  SCANDAL 

"  We  must  all  go  back  on  the  Galatea  to-night,"  he 
went  on. 

"  You  will  alter  your  plans  for  me  ?  You  will  stand 
by  me  again  ?  " 

He  gave  a  queer  sort  of  laugh.  "  You  didn't  call 
me  a  sportsman  for  nothing,"  he  said. 


XXXIX 

NEW  YORK  again, —  tired,  hot,  irritable  New  York. 
A  New  York  in  the  summer,  careless  of  her  appearance 
like  an  overworked  woman  with  a  too  large  family 
and,  in  consequence,  a  trifle  blowsy,  with  stringy  hair 
and  a  rather  dirty  skirt. 

Four  cars  drove  away  from  the  river  which  lay 
glistening  beneath  an  afternoon  sun. 

"  Well,"  said  Beatrix,  sitting  back,  "  all  we  need  to 
make  the  procession  really  noticeable  is  a  mounted  po- 
liceman, a  band  and  a  banner." 

Franklin  laughed  and  looked  over  his  shoulder. 
Following  them  came  Mrs.  Lester  Keene  alone  in  all 
her  glory  with  the  smaller  cases.  Behind  her,  appar- 
ently not  on  speaking  terms,  Helene  and  the  valet  with 
a  collection  of  hat  and  shoe  boxes.  Finally  an  open 
touring  car  piled  high  with  luggage. 

"  What  tune  would  you  suggest  for  the  band  ?  " 

"  There'd  be  a  nice  touch  of  irony  in  '  See  the  Con- 
quering Hero  Comes,'  "  she  said.  "  Don't  you  think 
so?" 

'-  Quite  nice."  He  congratulated  himself  upon  be- 
coming an  excellent  actor. 

"  And  now  tell  me  a  few  things.  What  about  the 
Galatea  f  " 

"  Oh,  she'll  remain  in  commission,"  said  Franklin. 
"  McLeod  is  going  home  for  a  few  days  and  the  first 


342  SCANDAL 

officer  will  be  in  charge.  Malcolm  will  stay  aboard 
too.  I  shall  let  him  know  what  happens." 

"  Why  didn't  you  bring  him  with  us?  " 

<;  Don't  you  think  he  might  have  been  in  the  way?  " 

"  And  where's  Mrs.  Larpent  going  ?  " 

"  Home  first  and  then  to  Southampton,  I  believe." 

"  I  forgot  to  say  good-bye  to  her  in  the  hurry  of 
getting  away  from  the  yacht,"  said  Beatrix,  hoping 
never  to  see  her  again. 

"  I  thought  you  would,"  said  Franklin,  a  little  dryly. 
His  mind  went  back  to  the  strained  and  uncomfortable 
return  trip  during  which  Beatrix  and  Ida  Larpent  had 
instinctively  avoided  each  other  as  much  as  possible. 
He  couldn't  for  the  life  of  him  make  out  why. 

"  She's  very  beautiful,"  said  Beatrix,  as  though  she 
were  talking  about  a  view  or  a  horse. 

"  Yes,  but  better  than  that,"  said  Franklin.  "  She's 
a  good  sort." 

And  Beatrix  changed  the  conversation  abruptly. 
"  Dear  little  Brownie !  It  was  very  thoughtful  of  her 
to  insist  on  riding  alone." 

"  Probably  imagined  that  you  and  I  had  plenty  to 
talk  about." 

"Have  we?" 

"  I  suppose  so,  but  I  don't  know  where  to  begin." 

And  after  that  there  was  silence,  for  which  both  of 
them  were  glad.  This  was  the  first  time  since  leaving 
the  one-eyed  place  with  its  frogs  and  chickens  that  they 
had  been  alone.  During  the  return  trip  on  the  Gala- 
tea they  had  both  tacitly  agreed  that  no  purpose  could 
be  served  by  being  together  more  than  was  necessary. 


SCANDAL  343 

Beatrix  had  kept  Malcolm  at  her  side  consistently. 
She  confided  nothing,  spoke  little  and  pretended  to  read 
one  of  Jones's  novels,  keeping  her  false  brilliance  for 
lunch  and  dinner.  Malcolm,  glad  to  believe  that  for 
some  unfathomable  reason  his  companionship  was 
necessary,  stretched  himself  out  in  a  deck  chair  and 
wrote  masses  of  vers  libre.  When  inspiration  failed 
he  surreptitiously  watched  Beatrix  and  wondered  why 
her  eyes  were  nearly  always  on  the  horizon  with  a  wist- 
fulness  that  worried  him.  Once  or  twice  it  flashed 
across  his  mind  that  she  loved  his  friend  and  was 
hiding  the  fact  because  of  pride,  and  the  excitement 
of  the  thought  drove  every  other  idea  out  of  his  head. 
But  when  he  saw  that  her  manner  to  Franklin  was 
cheery  and  devil-may-care  and  boyish, —  that  word 
seemed  right  to  him, —  he  dismissed  it.  "  No  such 
luck,"  he  said  to  himself  and  went  on  being  quiet  when 
he  sensed  that  she  wished  for  quietude  and  broke  into 
voluble  conversation  when  it  seemed  to  him  that  she 
silently  asked  him  to  chatter. 

He  was  a  lazy  fellow,  was  Malcolm  Fraser,  a  happy- 
go-lucky  procrastinating  young-old  man,  was  this  very 
dear  chap,  to  whom  the  mere  passing  of  time  counted 
for  little  so  that  it  passed  pleasantly  and  who  seemed 
to  be  content  to  absorb  the  color  of  life  and  revel  in  the 
pageantry  of  Nature.  But  he  had  been  born  a  poet 
and  one  fine  day,  when  he  took  himself  seriously, 
ceased  to  be  impressionistic  and  settled  down  to  work, 
his  God-sent  sympathy,  the  milk  of  human  kindness, 
of  which  he  was  full,  and  the  exquisite  imagery  that 
he  had  been  collecting  as  a  bee  gathers  honey,  would 


344  SCANDAL 

put  him  among  the  few  men  whose  verse  fills  a  hard 
world  with  music  and  gives  back  to  wounded  souls  that 
gift  of  faith  without  which  life  is  a  hollow  and  a  use- 
less episode. 

All  the  way  back  Mrs.  Larpent  had  kept  to  her  own 
room,  giving  out  that  she  was  unwell, —  as  indeed  she 
was.  Her  mind  was  sick,  and  her  body  disappointed. 
Franklin  had  told  her  the  truth,  she  was  obliged  to 
own,  when  he  said  that  he  loved  Beatrix.  There  was 
no  accounting  for  tastes  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  a 
man  might  infinitely  better  give  his  heart  like  a  toy  to  a 
toy-surfeited  child  than  to  this  young  autocrat. 

And  so  Franklin  had  found  companionship  with 
Captain  McLeod,  the  first  officer,  and  —  it  was  enough 
to  make  a  cat  laugh  —  with  Mrs.  Lester  Keene.  He 
spent  hours  trying  to  make  the  time  pass  a  little 
pleasantly  for  the  elderly  woman  who  was,  he  knew, 
anxious,  frightened  and  full  of  conscientious  but 
wholly  unnecessary  self-reproach.  They  became  good 
friends  before  the  yacht  dropped  her  anchor  off  her 
usual  moorings, —  even  they.  One  of  Mrs.  Keene's 
resolutions  was  that,  in  future,  she  would  revise  her 
novel-made  opinion  of  men.  That  was  something  to 
have  achieved,  had  Franklin  only  known  it. 

Through  the  mostly  ugly,  but  sometimes  queerly 
beautiful  and  always  unique  city  they  went  together, 
Franklin  and  Beatrix  followed  by  their  entourage,  and 
it  came  to  them  both  that,  in  returning  to  the  house 
in  which  they  had  joined  forces  in  a  manner  that  now 
appeared  to  them  to  be  inconceivable,  they  were  com- 
pleting a  curious  and  a  useless  circle.  They  had  under- 


SCANDAL  345 

gone  strange  feelings,  placed  themselves  into  difficult 
and  dangerous  situations,  disconnected  themselves 
from  the  irresponsibility,  the  right  to  which  was  theirs 
by  inheritance,  given  up  an  individualism  that  was  part 
and  parcel  of  their  training  and  environment,  and  all 
for  what?  To  return  discontented,  disappointed  and 
dispirited  to  the  spot  from  which  they  had  set  out. 
He  loved  her  and  would  lay  his  life  at  her  feet  and 
she  loved  him  and  would  gladly  be  his  servant,  and 
both,  being  alike  and  having  the  same  want  of  confi- 
dence when  it  came  to  the  fundamentals,  had  not  found 
it  out.  Fate  had  played  a  pretty  game  with  these  two 
for  having  dared  to  tamper  with  her.  And,  oddly 
enough,  Ida  Larpent  was  the  only  one  of  the  charac- 
ters in  this  little  comedy  from  which  she  had  made 
her  exit  who  had  guessed  what  Fate  had  done  and  now 
peeked  through  the  cracks  in  the  scenery  to  see  how 
it  was  going  to  end.  And  she,  being  a  worldling, 
suspicious  of  humanity,  was  not  prepared  to  make  a 
guess. 

"  Well,"  said  Beatrix  at  last,  gathering  herself  to- 
gether. "  We're  almost  there.  In  for  a  very  amusing 
evening,  if  I  know  my  respected  and  respectable  fam- 
ily." 

Franklin  turned  and  looked  at  her.  There  was 
something  in  her  voice, —  a  sort  of  school-girl  note,  the 
note  of  a  high  spirited  young  thing  who  had  broken 
bounds  and  been  discovered  and  faced  punishment, — 
that  made  him  shoot  out  a  laugh. 

"Why  laugh?"  she  asked.  She  never  tolerated 
being  laughed  at. 


346  SCANDAL 

"  You'd  make  a  rattlesnake  chortle."  He  laughed 
again. 

"  Look  out,  or  I  may  hit  you,"  she  said.  "  It's  one 
of  the  things  that  makes  my  arm  utterly  irresponsible." 

He  made  a  gesture  that  was  almost  French.  "  You 
beat  me,"  he  said.  "  By  Jove,  you  beat  me." 

"  If  you'd  beaten  me  it  might  have  been  different," 
she  snapped  back  at  him. 

"  One  doesn't  beat  you,"  said  Franklin.  "  God 
made  you  and  that's  the  end  of  it,  I  find.  No  argu- 
ment, as  a  man  I  know  always  says  when  the  rain  has 
set  in  for  the  day  or  a  bottle's  empty.  You  are  you, 
kiddie,  and  so  are  the  sun,  the  moon  and  the  stars." 

"  You're  a  fool,"  she  cried,  "  a  fool,  a  fool !  "  And 
then  she  put  her  hand  quickly  over  her  mouth.  What 
kind  of  a  fool  would  she  look  if  she  allowed  herself  to 
fling  out  even  the  beginning  of  what  was  in  her  mind? 

"  I  knew  that  five  minutes  after  I  grinned  like  a 
Cheshire  cheese  and  posed  before  your  people  as  the 
sheepish  husband.  All  the  same  it  was  worth  it,  here 
and  there."  He  was  damned  if  he'd  give  himself  away 
either. 

"  I  think  so  too,"  she  said. 

The  car  turned  and  went  through  the  great  iron 
gates. 

"  I  shall  like  the  Galatea  all  the  better  because  you've 
touched  her,"  he  said. 

She  laughed  because  her  lips  insisted  on  trembling. 
"  I  suppose  you  asked  Malcolm  to  give  you  that. 
Don't  you  think  one  poet  in  the  family's  enough? 
There's  mother's  machine-made  hair  and  Aunt 


SCANDAL  347 

Honoria's  perfect  nose  and  dear  old  daddy's  kind  but 
suspicious  eyes.  '  It's  all  right  in  the  wintertime  but 
in  the  summertime  it's  awful.' '  She  sang  these 
pathetic  words  beneath  her  breath  and  waved  her  hand 
to  the  waiting  family  with  an  air  of  superb  confidence 
and  affection. 

He  didn't  laugh  again.     Metaphorically  he  took  off 
all  his  hats  to  her  and  laid  them  at  her  feet. 


XL 

THE  perfect  Mrs.  Vanderdyke,  fresh  from  the 
manipulations  of  her  constant  time-fighters,  arranged 
herself  on  the  top  step  of  the  house.  With  a  light, 
controlling  touch  she  placed  her  husband  on  her  right 
and  her  sister-in-law  on  her  left,  so  that,  viewed  from 
below,  they  should  be  exactly  framed  in  the  elaborate 
doorway.  She  did  this,  as  she  did  everything,  with  a 
self-conscious  sense  of  the  decorative,  of  being  like 
royalty,  in  the  public  eye,  of  standing  before  an  im- 
aginary battery  of  masked  cameras  as  the  chief  repre- 
sentative of  American  high  society. 

It  was  a  good  picture,  she  knew,  and  one  of  which 
her  country  might  well  feel  proud.  She  was  quite 
satisfied  with  her  own  appearance.  Her  head,  which 
had  taken  an  hour  to  dress,  was  a  work  of  art.  She 
wore  no  hat.  After  some  consideration  she  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  a  hat  would  spoil  the  intimate, 
home-like  effect  that  she  desired  to  achieve.  Her  face, 
strangely  un-lined  and  immobile,  had  the  faintest  touch 
of  color.  Her  chin,  held  high  in  order  that  there 
should  not  be  the  mere  suggestion  of  sag,  certainly 
gave  her  the  appearance  of  gargling,  but  what  did  that 
matter?  Her  dress,  which  had  almost  broken  a 
woman's  heart,  gave  her  youth.  Of  her  sister-in-law 
she  felt  proud.  She  added  the  right  note  of  dignity 


SCANDAL  349 

and  autumnal  beauty,  with  her  white  hair  and  eagle 
nose  and  unconscious  grace.  She  wished  that  her 
husband  had  taken  more  pains  with  his  clothes  and  had 
put  up  a  better  fight  with  elderliness  but,  after  all,  he 
was  Vanderdyke  and  a  man. 

She  was  pleased  with  the  way  in  which  Franklin 
helped  Beatrix  out  of  the  car  and,  going  down  two 
steps,  she  welcomed  the  daughter  of  whom  she  knew 
absolutely  nothing  as  though  she  were  a  rather  inter- 
esting and  important  relation.  "  How  well  you  look, 
dear  Beatrix,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  which  gave  the  im- 
pression of  having  been  as  well  massaged  as  her  face. 
She  placed  a  light  kiss  on  the  girl's  cheek.  "  But  I've 
never  seen  you  so  sunburned  before,"  she  added  re- 
proachfully. 

"  The  simple  life,  Mother,"  said  Beatrix,  knowing 
that  her  satire  was  wasted.  She  put  her  arms  round 
her  father's  neck.  "  How  are  you,  Daddy  darling  ? 
Glad  to  see  me  ? " 

Mr.  Vanderdyke,  whose  to-days  were  just  as 
monotonous  and  uninspired  as  his  yesterdays,  was  un- 
expectedly emotional.  He  held  his  only  child  closely 
and  kissed  her  several  times  and  said,  "  My  dear,  my 
dear,"  a  little  brokenly.  His  little  girl  was  return- 
ing from  her  honeymoon.  It  might  mean  so  much  in 
the  history  of  the  family. 

And  then  it  was  Aunt  Honoria's  turn.  With  eager 
tenderness  and  pride  she  gathered  into  her  warm  arms 
the  girl  she  would  have  given  so  much  to  own.  Her 
broken  romance  lived  again  at  that  moment.  Her  eyes 
were  blurred  with  tears. 


350  SCANDAL 

Not  her  father  and  not  her  mother  gave  Beatrix  a 
sudden  feeling  of  being  a  fraud  and  an  impostor,  but 
this  kind,  sweet  woman  whose  silence  was  so  eloquent. 
How  different  everything  might  have  been  if  only  she 
had  been  her  mother ! 

With  what  she  intended  to  be  marked  cordiality 
Mrs.  Vanderdyke  gave  both  her  hands  to  Franklin, 
who  had  never  been  so  uncomfortable  in  his  life.  She 
wanted  to  convey  to  him  the  fact  that  even  in  the 
face  of  rumors  and  anonymous  letters  she  believed  in 
him.  "  My  dear  Pelham,"  she  said,  "  it  is  kind  of  you 
to  cut  your  honeymoon  so  short  in  deference  to  our 
wishes." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Franklin.  He  pulled  himself 
up  as  he  was  about  to  add,  "  I'm  only  too  delighted." 

Mr.  Vanderdyke  seemed  anxious  to  support  his  wife. 
"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "  my  dear  fellow,"  and 
stuck. 

Franklin  returned  his  grip.  "  I'm  awfully  glad  to 
see  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Er  —  what  stunning 
weather."  He  caught  the  impish  look  which  Beatrix 
darted  at  him  and  gave  it  up. 

"  My  dear  lad,"  said  Aunt  Honoria,  so  kindly  and 
with  a  smile  that  was  so  maternal  that  Franklin  put 
her  hand  to  his  lips.  It  was  only  as  they  all  went  into 
the  hall  that  he  turned  cold  under  the  realization  that 
he  was  little  better  than  a  cheat  among  these  people. 
All  the  same,  with  one  refreshing  glance  at  Beatrix, 
whose  impression  of  half -shy,  half -defiant  young  wife- 
hood  was  amazingly  perfect,  he  played  the  son-in-law 
to  the  best  of  his  ability. 


SCANDAL  351 

Once  more  they  were  back,  these  two,  in  the  place 
where  life  had  taken  a  sudden  and  astonishing  twist. 
Months  seemed  to  have  gone  by  since  they  had  been 
there  before. 

"  The  Bannermans,  Mrs.  Gordon  and  Ethel,  the  Due 
de  la  Faucheroucould  and  Roy  Stanton  have  been  stay- 
ing," said  Mrs.  Vanderdyke.  "  By  a  very  lucky  chance 
we  shall  be  alone  to-night  and  to-morrow.  We  will 
have  a  family  council  after  dinner." 

Beatrix  looked  at  Franklin  over  her  father's 
shoulder,  and  drew  down  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 
No,  he  was  not  the  man  to  make  her  take  things  seri- 
ously. 

Mr.  Vanderdyke  let  out  some  of  the  uneasiness  that 
he  had  done  his  best  to  disguise  during  the  welcome. 
"  I  wish  I'd  acted  on  my  intuition  to  telephone  to  my 
lawyer,"  he  said  petulantly.  "  Eventually  we  shall 
have  to  take  legal  advice,  I  feel  sure." 

Aunt  Honoria  broke  in.  "  Now,  now,"  she  said, 
"  we  agreed  not  to  go  into  this  matter  until  our  young 
people  had  settled  down.  It  is  far  too  serious  to  take 
up  in  a  desultory  manner.  Personally,  my  opinion  is 
that  as  soon  as  Pelhani  has  all  the  facts  and  has  dined 
well  and  is  smoking  a  cigar  he  will  bring  his  practical- 
ity to  bear  and  possibly  do  away  with  any  recourse  to 
the  law.  I  have  great  confidence  in  Pelham,"  and 
she  smiled  at  him  in  a  way  that  made  him  cold 
again. 

And  then  Mrs.  Lester  Keene  came  in  and  was 
greeted  graciously  by  the  two  ladies. 

Beatrix  went  across  casually  to  Franklin.     "  What 


352  SCANDAL 

on  earth  has  happened  ?  "  she  asked,  in  an  anxious 
whisper. 

"  I  wish  I  knew,"  he  whispered  back. 

"  Do  you  feel  curious  ?     I  do." 

He  nodded  gravely.  Beatrix  and  scandal, —  they 
were  never  meant  to  run  in  double  harness. 

And  then  the  imp  of  mischief  that  was  never  very 
far  away  from  Beatrix  took  its  old  accustomed  place 
on  her  shoulder,  and  her  eyes  began  to  dance.  "  I'm 
not  surprised  at  my  family's  confidence  in  you,"  she 
said.  "  There's  something  in  your  appearance  that 
could  win  you  orders  even  for  an  encyclopedia.  What 
fills  me  with  surprise  and  amusement  is  the  confidence 
they  seem  to  feel  in  me.  That's  quite  new." 

"  Not  so  loud,"  he  said. 

She  sent  out  a  ripple  of  laughter.  "  Well,  you  cer- 
tainly are  practical.  That,  I  know." 

"Do  you?" 

"  Don't  I  ?  "  She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes  and 
her  laughter  ceased. 

Mrs.  Vanderdyke  joined  them.  "  You  have  twenty 
minutes  for  a  little  rest  before  you  dress  for  din- 
ner, Beatrix.  You  must  be  tired  after  your  hot  drive." 

"  No,  Mother,  thanks,"  said  Beatrix  airily.  "  Pel- 
ham  talked  all  the  way  here  and  was  so  merry  and 
bright  that  the  journey  seemed  short."  But  she  went 
upstairs  to  the  suite  that  he  would  never  forget,  and 
her  little  touch  of  sarcasm  found  its  mark. 

"  Come  into  my  room,"  said  Mr.  Vanderdyke,  "  and 
we'll  smoke  a  cigarette." 

Franklin  followed  him. 


SCANDAL  353 

It  was  a  curious  room  in  which  he  presently  found 
himself, —  a  room  which  gave  a  pathetic  keynote  to  the 
character  and  life  of  the  man  who  spent  so  many  hours 
in  it.  Very  large  and  lofty,  it  was  crammed  with  ideas 
at  which  he  appeared  to  have  made  a  beginning, 
dabbled  in  and  wearied  of.  There  were  leather-bound 
manuscript  books  in  dozens,  several  of  which  had  labels 
on  the  back, — "  Notes  on  Old  China,"  "  Impressions 
of  European  Labor  Conditions,"  "  Butterflies," 
"  Songs  and  Sonnets,"  "  A  Life  of  Russell  Vander- 
dyke,  Book  I.,"  "  Trout  Streams,"  "  The  Improve- 
ment of  Factories," —  it  would  have  taken  an  hour  to 
examine  them  all.  The  note  of  the  dilettante  was 
everywhere, —  in  the  pieces  of  rare  silver  that  were 
mixed  with  old  pottery,  Japanese  lacquer,  Jacobean 
chests,  Oriental  curios,  ancient  Bibles,  first  editions, 
faded  prints,  modern  etchings,  and  one  or  two  appall- 
ing examples  of  so-called  Cubist  work  which  appealed 
to  Franklin  merely  as  pervertism  or  the  attempt  of 
men  who  had  never  been  taught  to  paint  to  illustrate 
delirium  tremens.  It  was  the  room  of  a  man  of  con- 
firmed irresolution,  of  an  inherited  lack  of  grip,  of  an 
intellect  that  was  as  unconcentrated  as  a  flight  of 
pigeons.  It  showed  a  scattering  of  interest  that  could 
only  belong  to  some-one  who  had  never  felt  the  splen- 
did urge  of  achieving  an  object  in  the  face  of  dire 
necessity.  It  provided  the  most  unobservant  eye  with 
a  complete  history  of  an  ambitious  but  vacillating  life. 
It  conveyed  to  workers  the  impression  of  many  acres 
of  dead-level  ground  long  ago  carefully  staked  out  as 
a  garden  city,  with  neat  boards  indicating  here  an 


354  SCANDAL 

avenue,  here  a  public  library,  here  a  country  club,  here 
a  huge  hotel,  here  a  railroad  station,  all  very  neat  and 
well  weeded  but  without  the  fulfilment  of  one  single 
promise. 

Franklin  didn't  get  the  feeling  of  the  room  at  once. 
It  seemed  to  him  to  be  rather  intimate  though  some- 
what uninhabitable.  It  was  only  while  Mr.  Vander- 
dyke  was  talking  in  his  vague  impersonal  way  that  the 
pathetic  incompleteness  of  it  all  came  to  him  and  hit 
him  hard.  Good  Heavens,  what  if  he,  too,  dwindled, 
for  the  same  reason,  into  a  similar  dabbler!  What  if 
he,  too,  scattered  away  his  life  with  the  same  kind  of 
uselessness ! 

He  was  glad  to  get  away  to  change  and  to  think. 
He  was  pretty  certain  that  the  time  was  near,  whatever 
might  be  the  wray  out  of  the  maze  that  he  was  in  with 
Beatrix,  for  him  to  do  a  good  deal  of  thinking.  He 
was  pretty  certain  that  when  he  left  the  Vanderdyke 
house  alone, —  he  couldn't  see  how  else  he  could  leave 
it, —  the  effect  that  Beatrix  had  had  upon  him  would 
impel  him  to  hitch  himself  on  to  life  in  some  other 
capacity  than  that  of  a  mere  observer.  For  her  sake, 
in  her  honor,  he  would  dedicate  his  life  to  a  job  that 
should  relieve  the  pressure  in  some  way  on  the  toilers 
of  the  earth  and  help  things  forward. 

When  he  returned  to  the  hall  he  found  the  punctual, 
punctilious  family  ready  and  waiting  to  go  into  dinner. 
Beatrix  followed  him  down  almost  immediately,  wear- 
ing a  simple  and  charming  frock.  Aunt  Honoria  met 
her  and  brought  her  into  the  group.  There  was  some- 
thing about  the  girl,  a  new  dignity,  a  riper  air,  an  un- 


SCANDAL  355 

characteristic  quietude  that  was  caught  at  once  by  the 
three  Vanderdykes  and  especially  by  Aunt  Honoria. 
Her  words  to  Franklin  in  the  garden  before  the  honey- 
moon came  back  into  her  mind  and  with  an  emotion 
that  she  was  unable  to  suppress  she  said,  "  This  is  a 
good  night  in  the  history  of  the  family.  Our  little 
girl  has  found  herself  as  we  have  prayed  that  she 
would.  I  speak  for  my  brother  and  sister  when  I  say 
that  we  are  grateful  to  you,  Pelham."  She  bowed  to 
him  with  old-fashioned  grace. 

Mr.  Vanderdyke,  obviously  disconcerted,  murmured 
approval,  and  Mrs.  Vanderdyke  smiled.  She  was  a 
little  resentful  of  the  way  in  which  Aunt  Honoria  al- 
ways took  the  lead  but  this  was  outweighed  by  her 
immense  relief  at  the  fact  that  Beatrix  was  happy  and 
disposed  of. 

Franklin  was  the  most  uncomfortable  man  on  earth. 

And  then  Beatrix  did  a  thing  that  once  more  made 
him  wish  that  they  were  back  in  the  stone  age.  "  Let 
me  speak  for  myself,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Pelham,  I 
am  very  grateful,  too,"  and  put  her  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der, stood  on  tiptoes  and  kissed  him. 

He  was  wrong,  once  more,  when  he  told  himself, 
angrily,  that  she  was  deliberately  fooling,  getting  a 
thrill  of  amusement  at  his  expense.  If  he  had  known 
her  as  she  was  now,  he  would  have  realized  that  she 
had  seized  the  public  moment  to  do  something  she 
would  not  have  dared  to  do  privately,  that  she  was 
thanking  him  for  what  he  had  done  for  her  and  saying 
"  Good-bye."  She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  tell  the 
truth  at  the  family  council  that  night. 


XLI 

WHILE  Helena  had  been  brushing  her  hair  and  get- 
ting her  ready  for  dinner  Beatrix  had  gone  in  for  hon- 
est thinking  too. 

She  came  at  once  to  the  conclusion  that  from  every 
point  of  view  the  sham  that  she  had  created  in  that 
wild  moment  of  self-preservation  and  devil-may-care 
must  be  smashed.  Scandal  had  driven  her  into  it. 
Scandal  was  following  at  her  heels  and  in  a  blaze  of 
scandal  the  episode  must  end.  The  futile  punishment, 
which,  as  a  girl,  she  had  been  so  keen  to  dodge  mat- 
tered nothing  to  her  now  as  a  woman.  Let  Aunt 
Honoria  drag  her  into  the  back  of  beyond.  She  would 
go  gladly.  In  silent  lonely  places  she  could  sit  in 
dreams  and  live  over  again  those  wonderful  moments 
during  which  she  had  burst  into  womanhood.  What 
did  it  matter  now  if  she  missed  a  season,  many  sea- 
sons in  New  York?  She  had  looked  into  the  eyes  of 
life.  She  had  no  longer  any  desire  to  take  her  part 
among  the  silly  sheep  that  ran  about  in  droves.  She 
was  sorry  for  the  pain  and  humiliation  that  she  must 
cause  her  family  to  suffer.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
way  to  prevent  that.  To  enter  into  Franklin's  scheme 
of  marriage  only  meant  a  postponement  of  scandal. 
Divorce  would  provide  the  gossipers  with  an  even 
more  succulent  morsel  than  the  one  that  was  waiting 


SCANDAL  357 

for  them.  Out  of  this  smash,  bad  as  it  must  be,  she 
would  at  any  rate  preserve  her  pride  and  set  Franklin 
free. 

There  were  three  things  that  hit  her  hard  as  she  sat 
in  front  of  her  looking  glass  that  evening.  Her  fail- 
ure to  make  Franklin  eat  the  words  that  he  had  flung 
at  her  vanity  as  he  stood  at  the  foot  of  her  bed.  Her 
failure  to  turn  the  sex  attraction  that  she  had  deliber- 
ately stirred  in  him  into  love.  Her  failure  to  com- 
pete with  such  a  woman  as  Ida  Larpent.  In  fact 
it  was  the  word  failure  that  seemed  to  her  to  be  writ- 
ten all  over  the  episode  into  which  she  had  entered 
without  a  thought  for  anyone  except  herself, —  and  it 
was  the  one  word  which  had,  till  then,  never  been 
allowed  to  have  a  place  in  her  dictionary. 

It  was  a  bad  hour  that  she  went  through  as  she 
summed  things  up,  and  she  came  out  of  it  startled  at 
the  knowledge  that  she,  even  she,  was  required  to  pay 
for  her  mistakes  to  the  uttermost  cent. 

Well,  she  would  pay  and  pay  smiling.  She  would 
prove  to  Franklin  that  he  was  right  when  he  said  that 
she  had  courage. 

Dinner  was  a  rather  pompous,  long  drawn  out  affair, 
watched,  as  usual,  by  several  of  Romney's  rosy-cheeked 
men,  a  beautiful  Gainsborough  woman,  and  a  Rey- 
nolds' legal  luminary,  cynical  beneath  a  heavy  wig. 
Conversation  was  conducted,  rather  than  allowed  to 
run  easily,  through  the  superfluous  courses.  The 
butler,  with  the  air  of  a  bishop,  held  an  aloof  place  in 
the  background  and  silent-footed  men-servants  hov- 
ered like  hawks  over  the  shoulders  of  the  diners. 


358  SCANDAL 

To  Mr.  Vanderdyke  dinner  was  an  institution,  the 
land-mark  in  his  vacant  days.  He  trained  for  it  with 
assiduous  care  and  self-restraint,  enjoyed  it  with  his 
characteristic  halfheartedness  and  took  his  punishment 
and  his  tabloids  as  a  matter  of  course.  To  Mrs.  Van- 
derdyke it  was  a  severe  temptation  which,  for  the  most 
part,  she  resisted  with  great  pluck.  The  smallest  in- 
crease of  weight  meant  hours  of  treatment.  Aunt 
Honoria  just  ate  and  let  it  go  at  that  and  so  did  Frank- 
lin, whose  appetite  was  the  envy  and  wonder  of  many 
of  his  less  healthy  friends.  Beatrix  pecked  a  little 
and  said  a  little  but  smiled  at  everybody.  She  was 
keeping  up  the  bluff  until  her  cards  were  called. 

How  different  and  how  wonderful  it  would  all  have 
been  if  instead  of  acting  parts  she  and  Franklin  were 
playing  them  in  reality ! 

After  the  ladies  had  left  Franklin  smoked  a  cigarette 
with  Mr.  Vanderdyke  and  did  his  best  to  show  interest 
in  his  host's  rather  petulant  criticisms  of  the  ways  and 
methods  of  the  Government.  He  was  very  glad  to 
follow  him  into  the  drawing-room  in  whose  stiff  im- 
mensity the  ladies  were  almost  lost. 

He  went  straight  up  to  Mrs.  Vanderdyke,  who  was 
leaning  on  a  Tudor  mantelpiece,  torn  from  Little  Cla- 
verings  in  Essex.  She  always  stood  for  twenty  min- 
utes after  dinner.  It  was  part  of  her  regime. 
"  I'm  very  keen  to  hear  what  there  is  to  be  told, 
Mrs.  Vanderdyke,"  he  said.  "  May  we  get  to  it 
now?" 

"Isn't  it  a  little  early  yet?"  Mrs.  Vanderdyke 
turned  to  Aunt  Honoria,  who  was  talking  to  Beatrix. 


SCANDAL  359 

The  energy  of  this  tall,  tanned  man  was  a  little  discon- 
certing. "  Will  you " 

"  I  have  everything  here,"  said  Aunt  Honoria,  "  and 
I  agree  with  Pelham  that  there  is  no  time  like  the  pres- 
ent. I  have  given  orders  that  we  are  on  no  account  to 
be  disturbed.  You  will  sit  down,  won't  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Vanderdyke  did  so,  having  glanced  at  the  clock. 
Mr.  Vanderdyke  lay  back  in  a  low  chair  with  the 
fingers  of  his  long,  thin  hands  together.  He  would 
far  rather  have  been  in  the  hands  of  a  dentist  than  in 
that  room  at  that  time.  Franklin  sat  bolt  upright  next 
to  Beatrix,  who  had  her  metaphorical  bomb  all  ready 
to  throw  into  the  middle  of  the  group.  Only  to  these 
two  did  the  underlying  drama  of  this  curious  meeting 
appeal  fully. 

And  then  Aunt  Honoria  opened  the  proceedings 
quietly,  calmly  and  with  all  the  dignity  of  which  she 
was  a  mistress.  "  I  have  here,"  she  said,  "  a  bundle 
of  anonymous  letters  and  a  cutting  from  a  scurrilous 
paper.  The  first  letter  came  addressed  to  me.  Others 
are  written  to  my  brother  and  sister,  and  there  are  half 
a  dozen  which  were  sent  to  intimate  friends  of  ours 
and  placed  in  my  hands  by  them.  They  are  all  in  the 
same  handwriting,  which  looks  to  me  as  though  it 
were  disguised.  They  began  to  arrive  the  morning 
after  you  left  on  your  honeymoon,  my  dear,  and  have 
come  every  morning  since.  They  take  the  form  of  a 
series  of  questions.  This  is  the  first  one.  "  Have  you 
taken  the  trouble  to  discover  at  which  Church  or  reg- 
istry your  niece  Beatrix  and  Pelham  Franklin  were 
married  ? "  And  then  they  run  in  this  order.  You 


360  SCANDAL 

will  see  that  I  have  copied  them  out.  "  What  will  you 
do  when  you  find  that  your  daughter,  who  imagines 
herself  to  belong  to  the  salt  of  the  earth,  is  a  common 
wanton  and  liar?  What  will  you  do  to  repair  the 
damage  that  she  has  done  to  your  prestige  in  society 
by  humbugging  the  papers  into  printing  the  story  of  a 
marriage  that  never  took  place?  How  is  it  that 
sophisticated  people  of  your  type  have  accepted  a  man 
as  a  son-in-law  without  evidence  of  his  legal  right  to 
call  himself  so  ?  Do  you  think  you  set  a  good  example 
to  all  the  people  who  copy  your  ways  and  manners 
by  allowing  your  daughter  to  go  on  the  loose  with 
any  man  she  takes  a  fancy  to?  Have  you  a  grudge 
against  society  in  which  you  assume  a  leading  position 
and  have  you  made  yourselves  party  to  an  unmoral 
and  disgraceful  transaction  in  order  to  hold  it  up  to 
the  ridicule  of  the  world?  Would  you  speak  to  a 
young  girl,  however  well-born  and  wealthy,  who  to 
hide  a  love  affair  with  one  man  bluffed  a  marriage 
with  a  mere  acquaintance?  What  decent  man  will 
marry  your  daughter  after  she  has  been  '  honeymoon- 
ing* with  another?  Don't  you  know  that  truth  will 
out  and  that  already  tongues  are  busy  with  the  names 
of  Vanderdyke  and  Franklin  ?  Aren't  you  sufficiently 
worldly  to  have  learned  that  people  who  condone  are 
classed  with  people  who  commit?  Why  not,  if  you 
have  been  as  gullible  as  press  and  public,  set  things 
right  and  make  what  reparation  you  can  to  the  mem- 
bers of  your  class  ?  Do  you  want  the  name  of  Beatrix 
Vanderdyke  to  be  placed  among  those  of  notorious 
chorus  girls?  Why  not  at  once  institute  a  search 


SCANDAL  361 

among  the  registrations  of  marriages  and  force  the 
guilty  couple,  now  basking  in  the  light  of  a  mock  honey- 
moon, to  confession  and  penitence?  " 

"  Don't  go  on,  don't  go  on,"  cried  Mr.  Vanderdyke. 
"  I  can't  stand  it,  I  tell  you.  I  can't  stand  it !  "  His 
voice  was  almost  hysterical  and  his  gesture  almost 
feminine. 

"  These  dreadful  questions,"  said  Mrs.  Vanderdyke, 
in  a  low  voice,  "  give  me  mental  sickness." 

Franklin  sat  quite  still,  with  his  hands  clenched. 

Beatrix  looked  as  though  she  had  been  turned  to 
stone.  Had  all  these  hideous  things  grown  out  of  one 
impetuous  moment? 

"  I  will  gladly  pass  over  the  rest,"  said  Aunt 
Honoria,  "  and  come  to  the  cutting  from  the  paper  that 
was  sent  to  me  three  days  ago.  This,"  she  added  in 
a  voice  that  became  suddenly  sharp  with  anger,  "  calls 
for  immediate  action,  Pelham,  and  is  the  reason  of 
your  being  here  to-night." 

"  Please  read  it,"  said  Franklin. 

Aunt  Honoria  read,  holding  the  clipping  as  though 
it  held  contamination.  It  was  written  in  the  usual 
smart  manner  with  the  usual  lascivious  snigger. 
"  There  is  a  very  precious  high  life  scandal  in  the 
offing,  so  to  speak, —  one  which  will,  it  is  said  on  the 
best  authority,  flutter  the  dovecotes  of  all  our  Best 
Families.  Much  satisfaction  was  recently  expressed, 
and  gallons  of  ink  expended  in  fulsome  congratulation, 
upon  the  marriage  of  a  well-known  amateur  yachtsman 
to  the  beautiful  and  adventurous  daughter  of  a  multi- 
millionaire. No  recent  royals-marriage 


362  SCANDAL 

widely  commented  upon.  It  is  rumored,  however,  that 
the  high-spirited  young  lady  who,  even  as  a  debutante 
had  shown  a  certain  lofty  disregard  for  the  conven- 
tions, is  now  conducting  an  ultra-modern  experiment 
with  the  good-looking  amateur  yachtsman  by  honey- 
mooning with  him  before  the  legal  prescription  has 
been  made  out,  with  the  view,  perhaps,  to  ultimate  mar- 
riage. This  sort  of  thing  has  been  perpetrated,  it  is 
true,  though  without  any  attempt  to  mislead  the  public, 
by  persons  of  artistic  temperament  and  no  social  po- 
sition to  lose,  but  the  question  is  being  very  generally 
asked  as  to  how  this  peculiar  proceeding  will  presently 
be  viewed  by  American  Society,  which  still  clings  to 
one  or  two  hard  and  fast  standards.  I  shall  certainly 
watch  the  outcome  with  immense  curiosity  and  shall  be 
especially  interested  to  see  how  soon  the  matrons  on 
and  near  Fifth  Avenue  will  show  how  the  wind  is 
blowing  in  their  treatment  of  a  certain  member  of  the 
girl's  family  who  has  constituted  herself  the  guide 
and  mentor  of  her  set  for  many  years." 

Although  he  had  read  this  cunningly  offensive  thing 
over  many  times,  Mr.  Vanderdyke  squirmed  in  his 
chair  and  put  one  hand  over  his  eyes.  His  fastidious 
and  beautiful  wife,  usually  too  self-centered  to  be 
concerned  with  the  troubles  of  other  people,  gave  him 
a  glance  of  very  genuine  sympathy.  It  had  been  the 
fetish  of  them  both  to  regard  convention  as  a  sort  of 
religion,  and  she  knew,  unable  herself  to  translate  her 
indignation  and  disgust  into  words,  how  deeply  her 
husband  took  this  utterly  undeserved  scurrility  to  heart. 
Like  him  and  like  Aunt  Honoria  she  had  no  suspicion 


SCANDAL  363 

of  there  being  anything  in  the  least  out  of  order  in 
the  marriage. 

Beatrix  still  sat  as  though  she  had  been  turned  to 
stone. 

But  Franklin  got  up.  This  poisonous  collection  of 
sniggering  words  made  him  see  red.  Oh,  God,  for  five 
minutes  with  that  fat  brute  York !  He  walked  up  and 
down,  watched  with  grim  satisfaction  by  the  family, 
especially  by  Mr.  Vanderdyke,  who  poked  himself  up 
on  his  elbow  and  with  a  flush  on  his  face  and  an  eager 
light  in  his  pale  eyes  saw  in  that  tall,  wiry,  sun-burned 
man  all  the  symptoms  of  an  overwhelming  desire  for 
the  sort  of  physical  vengeance  in  which  he  himself 
would  never  be  able  to  indulge. 

Franklin  got  himself  under  control,  stood  in  front 
of  the  fireplace  and  asked  himself  what  he  was  going 
to  do.  The  moment  had  come  when  he  could  get  free 
of  the  girl  who  tortured  his  lonely  hours  and  compelled 
his  adoration  and  was  further  away  than  Heaven.  In 
a  few  words  he  could  give  her  people,  who  deserved 
most  of  the  blame,  the  story  of  the  result  of  spoiling. 
Should  he  seize  it?  Should  he  cut  loose  from  an 
empty  tie  and  become  his  own  master  again?  Once, 
at  school,  he  had  been  summoned  before  the  Head 
Master  to  give  evidence  against  Malcolm  Fraser,  who 
had  broken  bounds.  He  had  lied  through  his  teeth  to 
save  his  friend.  Under  the  eyes  of  these  people  the 
feeling  came  back  to  him  and  pervaded  him  like  a 
perfume  that  he  was  standing  again  in  the  sanctum  of 
that  stern,  old  task-master.  Not  for  a  friend  this 
time,  not  for  a  man  who  could  take  his  punishment  and 


364  SCANDAL 

grin,  but  for  a  girl  who  would  be  stained  in  the  sight 
of  unbelievers,  the  girl  of  all  living  girls  whom  he 
loved  beyond  words  and  whom,  under  any  circum- 
stances, he  must  hold,  he  would  lie  himself  black  in  the 
face  to  defend.  That  was  settled.  It  was  almost 
laughable  to  have  supposed  that  there  had  been  any 
other  solution.  He  turned.  There  was  a  curious 
smile  in  his  eyes.  ".What  is  your  proposition?"  he 
asked. 

Aunt  Honoria  took  a  sheet  of  note  paper  from  the 
little  table  at  her  elbow.  There  was  something  about 
this  man  Franklin  that  reminded  her  of  the  one  who 
had  taken  her  heart  with  him  beyond  the  outpost  of 
eternity.  With  some  difficulty  she  steadied  her  voice. 
"  When  we  first  read  that  paragraph  with  its  abomi- 
nable suggestiveness,"  she  said,  "  we  had  no  intention 
of  being  drawn  into  making  a  statement.  We  agreed 
that  it  would  be  undignified.  But  since  then,  having 
talked  of  nothing  else,  we  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  we  must  send  something  to  the  leading  papers. 
What  we  suggest  is  this,  if  it  meets  with  your  ap- 
proval." 

"  Please  read  it."  He  noticed  that  Beatrix  was 
opening  and  closing  her  hands  as  though  she  had  pins 
and  needles. 

"  My  brother  drew  this  up  and  he  left  the  spaces  for 
you  to  fill  in,  Pelham."  Aunt  Honoria  then  read  the 
statement  which  her  brother  had  written  and  re-written 
at  least  a  dozen  times.  "  '  From  the  recent  account  of 
the  romantic  and  closely-guarded  marriage  of  Miss 
Beatrix  Vanderdyke  and  Mr.  Pelham  Franklin  pub- 


SCANDAL  365 

lished  by  us  we  omitted  to  give  the  name  of  the  church 
in  which  it  was  celebrated  and  the  date  of  the  cere- 
mony. '  The  Church  was and  the  date .' 

All  you  have  to  do  is  to  fill  in  the  facts  and  I  will  send 
the  necessary  copies  to  town  to-night  by  messenger. 
If  this  doesn't  put  an  end  to  letters  and  paragraphs  we 
must  then  claim  the  protection  of  the  law." 

Franklin  took  the  sheet  of  paper.  All  he  had  to  do 
was  to  fill  in  the  facts!  Ye  Gods,  what  was  he  to 
do  with  the  thing?  He  glanced  at  Beatrix.  She  still 
seemed  to  be  half  frozen.  No  help  was  to  be  had 
from  her.  He  must  put  forward  a  good  objection 
and  a  good  alternative  at  once.  "  I  think  that  your 
first  idea  was  the  right  one,"  he  said.  "  This  state- 
ment is  a  confession  of  weakness.  I  want  you,  if  you 
will,  to  leave  the  whole  thing  to  me.  I  know  the  man 
who's  written  those  letters.  It  will  give  me  immense 
pleasure  to  deal  with  him.  One  visit  to  the  office  of 
that  paper  will  settle  the  editor's  hash."  He  spoke 
with  all  the  confidence  that  he  could  master  and  smiled 
at  the  three  Vanderdykes,  who  seemed  to  hang  on  his 
words.  "  And,  after  all,  this  is  entirely  my  affair. 
Beatrix  is  my  wife  and  it  is  for  me  and  no  one  else 
to  protect  her." 

Beatrix,  now  fully  alive,  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  No," 
she  said,  "  it's  not  your  affair.  It's  mine,  and  it's  for 
me  to  put  an  end  to  it." 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  her, —  the  Vanderdykes' 
with  some  surprise.  Franklin's  with  quick  apprehen- 
sion. She  was  going  to  give  the  show  away,  he  saw. 
At  all  costs  she  must  be  stopped.  With  what  he  tried 


366  SCANDAL 

to  make  a  newly-married  smile  he  took  her  hand  and 
scrunched  it  so  that  she  nearly  screamed  with  pain. 
"  There's  going  to  be  a  friendly  argument  between 
us,"  he  said.  "  Would  you  permit  us  to  conduct  it  out 
in  the  air?  "  And  before  another  word  could  be  said 
by  anybody  he  put  his  arm  around  Beatrix's  waist, 
controlled  her  to  one  of  the  open  French  windows  and 
out  under  the  sky. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this  ?  "  she  cried  angrily. 

He  held  her  tight.  "  You  were  going  to  give  your- 
self away." 

"  Yes,  I  was."  She  tried  to  shake  him  off.  "  And 
I  will." 

"  No,  you  won't,  if  I  have  to  gag  you,  you  won't." 

She  gave  her  hand  a  violent  wrench.  "  Let  me  go. 
I've  had  enough  of  it." 

Instead  of  which  he  stooped  down,  picked  her  up  in 
his  arms,  carried  her  down  the  terrace  steps  and 
through  the  sleeping  garden  to  the  tea  house  over- 
looking the  Sound.  Here  he  put  her  down  and  stood 
in  front  of  her,  ready  to  catch  her  again  if  she  tried 
to  escape.  In  that  place,  not  so  long  ago,  he  had  found 
her  impossible. 

"  Now,  then,"  he  said,  "  come  to  cues." 

She  gave  a  scoffing  laugh.  "  What  is  all  this  ?  An 
attempt  to  play  the  primeval  man,  or  what  ?  " 

"  Be  sarcastic  if  you  like,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  care. 
Be  anything  you  please,  but  play  the  game.  You 
started  it." 

"  Play  the  game ! "  she  echoed,  blazing  with  anger. 
"  That's  exactly  what  I  was  going  to  do." 


SCANDAL  367 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you." 

"  What  do  I  care  whether  you  agree  or  not  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  make  you  care." 

"  Make  me  ?  You  ?  Have  you  ever  been  able  to 
make  me  do  one  single  thing?  " 

"  This  is  where  I  begin.     Sit  down." 

"  I  won't  sit  down."  He  put  her  into  a  chair  and 
stood  over  her.  He  was  in  no  mood  for  convention- 
ality. 

"  Dear  me,  how  strong  we  are ! "  she  said,  like  a 
rude  little  girl. 

"  Impertinence  is  wasted  on  me  to-night.  So 
try  something  else.  We're  back  again  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  game  of  yours,  but  to-night  we  start 
afresh." 

"  So  far  as  I'm  concerned  the  game's  over." 

"  Yes,  but  what  you  fail  to  realize  is  that  you're  not 
the  only  one  concerned.  There's  your  family  and 
there's  me." 

"  I'm  not  going  over  all  the  old  arguments  again,  I 
assure  you.  I  tell  you  the  thing  is  over.  You  may  be 
able  to  prevent  me  from  telling  the  truth  to-night,  but 
there's  to-morrow  and  the  day  after.  I'm  in  no  imme- 
diate hurry." 

"  I  am  though,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  you  here  until 
you  give  in  to  me." 

"  Order  breakfast  for  eight  o'clock,"  she  said  calmly. 

He  ignored  her  audacity.  "  You  will  do  three  un- 
forgivable things  by  telling  the  truth.  You  will  put 
your  people  into  a  panic,  hold  me  up  to  the  ridicule  of 
the  earth  and  hurt  your  reputation  beyond  any  sort  of 


368  SCANDAL 

repair.  It  isn't  sporting  to  do  the  first  two  and  I'm  not 
going  to  let  you  do  the  other." 

"  My   reputation "     She   began,   and   stopped. 

The  word  sporting  dried  up  her  words.  It  opened  up 
a  new  point  of  view.  She  had  harped  on  this  word 
in  regard  to  him.  She  held  it  in  high  respect.  For 
the  first  time  in  their  long  and  fluctuating  struggle  of 
temperament  he  had  scored. 

He  saw  it  and  went  on  quickly.  "  Because  of  your 
people  and  because  of  you, —  I  can  always  disap- 
pear,—  I'm  going  to  carry  on  your  lie  through  thick 
and  thin.  If,  when  I've  finished  what  I've  got  to  say, 
you  go  back  and  tell  them  that  you're  not  married  to 
me  I  shall  say  that  you're  lying  again.  I  shall  be  be- 
lieved and  I  shall  first  break  every  bone  in  York's  body 
and  thrash  the  paragraphist  into  a  hospital.  Then,  as 
soon  as  McLeod's  had  his  three  days'  leave  you,  being  a 
sportsman,  will  come  aboard  the  Galatea  with  me, — 
Malcolm's  waiting, —  and  we  will  make  a  bee  line  for 
the  Irish  Coast  and  get  married  in  Queenstown.  It's 
impossible  in  this  country  now." 

"  And  then,  what  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Africa  for  me,  home  for  you, —  or  anywhere  else 
you  like." 

"  I  see.  And  are  you  childish  enough  to  think  that 
this  precious  plan  will  kill  scandal  ?  " 

"Yes.     Why  not?" 

"  Divorce,—  what  of  that?  " 

"  That's  a  small  matter.  You  can't  get  a  divorce 
without  having  first  been  married.  It's  the  question 
of  marriage  that  we're  up  against." 


SCANDAL  369 

Beatrix  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Her  anger  had 
gone.  By  the  unexpected  use  of  that  one  word 
"  sporting  "  he  had  convinced  her  that  she  couldn't  go 
back  on  a  creed.  Here  was  a  man  who  had  the  right 
to  enforce  something  to  which  he  had  lived  up  so 
splendidly.  She  had  made  her  bed  and  must  lie  on  it. 

"  May  I  get  up  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Please,"  he  said,  and  stood  back. 

She  went  over  to  the  wall  and  put  her  hands  on  it 
and  looked  out  over  the  silent  water.  Was  she  beaten 
at  last?  Had  this  man  broken  her  as  well  as  un- 
consciously won  her  love?  Was  she  to  fail  utterly  in 
her  reiterated  attempt  to  make  him  eat  the  words  that 
had  hurt  her  so?  Was  she,  in  fact,  quite  down  from 
the  pedestal  upon  which  every  one  had  placed  her? 
A  rush  of  tears  blurred  her  eyes, —  but  only  for  a  sec- 
ond. She  forced  herself  under  control  and  looked 
round  to  see  where  Franklin  was.  He  hadn't  moved. 
!He  was  standing  where  she  left  him, —  not  looking 
very  much  like  a  man  who  had  won,  she  saw,  without 
surprise.  He  was  not  that  kind  of  man,  she  knew. 

"  I  want  you,"  she  said. 

He  went  over. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  something?  " 

"  Anything." 

She  felt  the  blood  rush  into  her  face.  "  Why  was 
Ida  Larpent  in  your  room  the  other  night  ?  " 

He  answered  simply.  "  To  smoke  a  cigarette  and 
have  a  yarn." 

One  awful  weight  fell  from  her  heart.  "  Will 
you  say  that  you're  sorry  for  that  horrid  thing  you 


370  SCANDAL 

flung  at  me  about  the  huts  and  the  desert  island  ?  " 

He  thought  for  a  moment,  remembered  and  laughed. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I'm  sorry." 

The  other  weight  fell.  There  was  a  third,  heavier 
than  these  two,  that  would  always  remain.  "  I  will 
marry  you,"  she  said. 

And  he  gave  a  queer  groan  and  his  hands  went  out 
to  catch  her  and  fell  to  his  sides. 

And  the  other  weight  fell  with  what  seemed  to  her 
to  be  a  crash  that  echoed  all  over  the  world.  Being  a 
woman,  and  a  woman  in  love,  she  stood  on  tiptoe  and 
kissed  him. 

"  Don't  do  that,"  he  cried  out. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  asked  softly,  standing  so  close  that 
the  perfume  of  her  hair  made  him  shake.  "  Aren't  you 
forcing  me  to  be  your  wife?  " 

"  No.     I'm  only  going  to  make  you  marry  me." 

"  Then  I  won't  marry  you,"  she  said. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  his  roughness  and  held  up  her  face 
so  that  he  might  see  what  she  meant  in  her  eyes.  She 
stood  up  straight,  young  and  slim  and  sweet, —  her 
whole  body  radiating  with  love  and  joy  and  triumph. 

And  he  looked  and  saw,  gave  a  great  cry  like  a  ship- 
wrecked man  who  sees  the  shore,  and  held  her  against 
his  heart,  out  there  in  the  night,  under  the  stars,  giving 
praise. 


XLII 

"  SORRY  you're  going  to  leave  us,  sir,"  said  Moffat, 
putting  a  pair  of  shoes  into  a  chamois  bag. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Malcolm. 

"  Mr.  Franklin  told  me  that  you're  going  to  make 
straight  for  my  village,  sir, —  London." 

The  valet  chuckled  at  his  little  joke. 

"  Yes,  London  for  the  autumn,  Paris  for  the  winter 
and  probably  back  to  New  York  for  the  spring." 

"  And  very  nice  too,  sir,  I'm  sure." 

Malcolm  went  over  to  one  of  the  open  port-holes  of 
his  stateroom.  The  Galatea  lay  in  the  harbor  of 
Queenstown.  The  setting  sun  lay  kindly  on  the 
houses  of  the  small  Irish  port  that  behaved  as  though 
it  were  the  hub  of  the  universe.  In  one  of  them,  a 
few  hours  ago,  he  had  stood  in  the  shabby  little  room 
of  the  registrar  of  births,  deaths  and  marriages,  mak- 
ing a  mental  and  never-to-be-forgotten  picture  of  a 
worn,  cheap  desk,  a  worn,  cheap  man  with  a  mop  of 
grizzled  hair  and  an  absolutely  expressionless  face,  an 
inkpot  which  looked  as  though  it  had  never  been 
cleaned,  a  square  of  green  blotting  paper,  a  dog-eared 
testament,  and  a  strip  of  carpet  across  which,  slanting 
from  the  door  to  the  desk,  there  was  a  threadbare 
path  made  by  the  passing  of  feet.  Births,  deaths  an4 


372  SCANDAL 

marriages, —  they  were  all  the  same  to  the  registrar. 
He  had  his  quiet  days  and  his  busy  ones.  Births  and 
deaths  gave  a  little  less  trouble  than  marriages  but  they 
all  worked  out  pretty  much  the  same. 

And  in  this  picture,  a  startling  contrast  to  the  shabby 
and  sordid  room,  stood  the  vital  figures  of  Beatrix  and 
Franklin,  hand  in  hand,  the  representatives  of  the 
spirit  of  youth  and  love  in  that  place  which  also  regis- 
tered the  beginning  and  the  end  of  life.  The  feeling 
and  the  symbolism  and  the  beauty  of  this  scene  made 
their  appeal  to  Malcolm  Fraser  both  as  a  poet  and  a 
man.  Here  stood  a  man  and  a  woman,  in  all  the 
glory  of  youth,  at  the  second  of  the  three  milestones. 
On  to  the  third,  hidden  behind  the  curtain  of  spring 
leaves,  they  would  now  go  together.  God  grant  them 
the  gifts  of  give  and  take  and  the  blessed  fruit  of  love. 
Here  stood  his  friend  and  the  woman  he  had  loved 
and  loved  still.  He  wasn't  losing  her  because  he  was 
never  in  the  running  to  win.  He  wasn't  losing  him 
because  their  bond  was  everlasting.  All  was  well, 
then.  He  had  no  complaints. 

He  followed  his  luggage  on  deck.  Beatrix  and 
Franklin  were  waiting  for  him.  How  different  they 
looked,  he  thought.  No  wonder.  They  had  found  the 
way  to  live. 

"  Don't  go,  Mally,"  said  Beatrix,  putting  an  arm 
round  his  shoulder.  "  Send  your  things  down  again 
and  come  back  with  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Franklin.     "  Come  on." 

Malcolm  shook  his  head.     "  Don't  tempt  me,"  he 


In  this  picture  stood  the  vital  figures  of  Beatrix  and 
Franklin,  hand  in  hand.    Page  372. 


SCANDAL  373 

said.  "  I've  been  lazy  long  enough.  I'm  going  to 
begin  to  work  in  the  old  cities.  With  any  luck  I'll 
have  a  thin  volume  ready,  very  expensively  bound,  for 
your  golden  wedding." 

They  all  laughed.  It  was,  somehow,  a  rather  emo- 
tional moment.  It  was  good  to  laugh. 

"  All  ready,  sir,"  said  Jones,  who  regretted  to  be  the 
one  to  put  good  old  Peter  Pan  ashore. 

Malcolm  gave  his  hand  to  Beatrix.  "  God  bless 
you,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

"  God  bless  you,  Mally." 

"  Good  luck,  old  man." 

"  So  long,"  said  Franklin. 

They  watched  him  into  the  launch  and  away,  waving 
their  hands. 

"  Good  old  Malcolm !  "  said  Franklin.  "  Among 
other  things  that  he  did  for  me  he  brought  you  on  the 
Galatea." 

"  But  not  for  my  honeymoon,"  said  Beatrix  with  a 
little  look  that  made  his  heart  jump.  "  When  do  we 
sail?" 

"  As  soon  as  Jones  gets  back." 

"  And  then,  where  ?  " 

"  Heaven,"  he  said. 

They  began  to  walk.  The  sun  was  slipping  away. 
A  new  day  was  coming,  a  new  beginning. 

"  I  know  one  thing,"  she  said. 

"What's  that?" 

"  You  won't  spoil  me." 

He  saw  the  old  mischievous  smile  lurking  in  her 


374  SCANDAL 

eyes.     But  she  escaped  his  eager  hands  and  ran  into 
her  state-room. 

And  he  followed  her  and  shut  the  door. 


THE   END 


HAROLD  A. 


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